Star of the Morning
by Eirian1
Summary: When everything you know... everything you believe is called into question... when all that you know to be good and right brings only darkness and pain where can you turn for answers? Sequel to Angel of the Heart, Set approximately three years later.
1. A Cry For Help

_Author's disclaimer: I do not own Ardeth Bay, Rick or Evelyn O'Connell, Alex O'Connell, Jonathan Carnahan, Imhotep and Anck-Su-Namun. Stephen Sommers and the guys at Universal do, for which they have my utmost respect and no copyright infringement is intended. Original characters are my own creation, if you want to use any of them please talk to me first. Original material presented here is © Eirian Phillips 2005. _

_I can be reached by email. Feedback is always welcome and emails are usually answered n- time permissing... maybe not straight away, but hang in there._

_This story is rated M. However, some readers may find parts of it disturbing due to content - reader discression is advised. _

_The characters and events in this story are purely fictitious (well, with the exception of WWII – more's the pity), and any similarity to anyone living, dead, undead or disincarnate, is purely coincidental._

_This story is the third part in the trilogy that began with _Power is_ and was continued in _Angel of the Heart_. While it can be read without the knowledge of the preceding parts of the story, greater enjoyment may be gained by having read the first two parts before starting the final one._

Star of the Morning Chapter 1

It always happened in his dreams, that he would fly… fly like a hawk over the golden sands beneath on strong wings that carried him in the warm embrace of the desert's breath. There was rarely any direction… any reason to the flight. He just flew, Horus surveying his kingdom, ready to protect where he was needed.

Tonight was different…

Tonight he heard something that made him tilt his wings, wheel in the sky to find the source of the disturbance. Find the voice that had cried out… screamed wordlessly for mercy – the shrill cry of one tormented… damned… lost…

_The air became cold, stilted and no longer bore him up. He spiralled downward, picking up speed with the fall, fear grabbing his soul… at the darkness that was spiralling, equally as quickly up to meet him, and swallow him._

_The scream came again from the darkness, just as shrill, just as piercing, more desperate than before; closer than before…and in the swirling of the darkness, he saw shadows…grotesque and deformed, almost like emaciated men whose limbs had been twisted and broken, like goblins... They were reaching and clawing… tearing at someone, a woman. It was the woman that was screaming. She reached for him from the midst of the terrible creatures that were tearing into her, twisting and squirming as though they were trying to climb inside her, as though they were feasting on her body._

_One of them turned its head… noticed him… turned away from the woman to swipe at the air, as if trying to reach him… trying to catch him… trying to let those sharp claws tear his flesh as they tore the flesh of the woman…_

_Terrified, still falling, he opened his mouth to echo the woman's cries with a scream of his own…_

* * *

"Suhayl," Meiri reached for her six year old son as he twisted and tangled in the blankets, crying out in the grip of some kind of nightmare. "Suhayl, it's all right… hush, little one… it's just a dream…"

She picked him up and slipped behind him, so that she could hold him… run her fingers over his fevered brow, smooth back his hair… give him comfort until he should wake from the bad dream.

His head rolled to the side as she moved him with the heaviness of someone deeply asleep. She passed her hand first over one side of his face, and then the other, worried at how warm he felt. Her hand came away wet and sticky.

"Suhayl," she gasped, and shook the child a little. He did not wake, only whimpered, his head rolling from side to side. Panicking she called out for help, before trying once more to wake her son. "Ardeth! Ashna!"

Still Suhayl would not wake, in fact cried out again in the same tone of fear that had brought her to his side bringing tears to her eyes. Tears of helplessness, tears of fear that something dreadful had happened, they fell in a stream down her cheeks when she looked up toward movement in the doorway.

"Ardeth, he won't wake… and there's blood. He's bleeding!"

He came into the room, crossing it in two long strides. "Set him down," he said, urgently.

"No," she moaned, fearful of letting her firstborn out of her arms.

"Put him down," Ardeth commanded again, coming to his knees beside the bed and reaching for Suhayl. "You cannot help him this way."

Still reluctantly, she let go and allowed Ardeth to lay the boy against the bed, twisting her hands together as Suhayl moaned again, almost fighting his father.

"What's happening?" her voice trembled as she spoke, more as Ardeth shook his head.

"I do not know. Bring a lamp, and have Ashna go for a healer."

Meiri hurried to obey, meeting Ashna in the doorway and taking the lamp from her hand. Then she asked her, terrified, to go and bring a healer – preferably Ayesha, though any would do – to help Suhayl. Ashna nodded as Meiri returned to Ardeth's side.

"His nose, Meiri," Ardeth told her as soon as he could see. "It is his nose."

Meiri let out a trembling sigh, and leaned her head against Ardeth's shoulder, shaking as he ministered gently to their eldest child.

"I thought--" she started to say.

"I know what you thought," he too sighed, "but it is nothing more than a bleeding nose. Perhaps he and one of the other boys were to close in practise today, and he was bumped. Ayesha will be able to tell us."

She nodded and sat up to watch the gentle pressure Ardeth applied to the bridge of Suhayl's nose, to try and stop the blood.

"At least his dream seems to have calmed," she said at last.

* * *

The night was uncomfortably humid, not at all the usual cold air that blew through the outskirts of the city where the ramshackle collection of huts, hovels and tents rose like pustules on packed earth, no man's land between Cairo and the Great Desert. It was always worse on nights like this…

Even in a slum like _il-Nihaaya_ – 'The End,' as the local citizens of Cairo named this quarter – a woman needed the means to live… and while caring for lost of il-Qaahira kept Miranda busy in the daytime, she could not; _would _not stay in the hostel as the previous incumbent had done. She did not feel that she deserved the chance to do so, even though they asked her time and again to stay. They knew where to find her if she were, in desperation, needed.

…the airlessness of the night stifled her, adding to the weight of the man that pinned her to the cushions as he slept pillowed on her back, sated of his passions. His passions had paid enough for her meals for the next few days, perhaps even a new dress, if she were careful with the money, but he had used her hard and she was sore… sore and feeling almost suffocated from the clammy heat of the night and the press of his sleeping flesh.

She longed for morning, for the early hours at the hostel where, as always she would wash away the stains of her night time life, at least from her body, for nothing could wash away the stains from her soul. They were stains given her by her folly. She would never forget them. Though the memories of what she had done when she had served the Cult of Nephthys as High Priestess haunted her, they were a shield against her ever committing such wickedness again. She feared that, for she believed that once a soul was touched by evil, it was so easy to fall again into evil. She would not, even though it stalked her nightly. She had turned her back on the evil she once did, that she once served, and fled the Temple of Nephthys, embracing a life among the _lost_ rather than the decadent torment that her life had been, under Ananiah and Nebkhat.

She shivered at a sudden breath of chill that raced through the one roomed hovel and blew over her sticky, naked body. She reached up a hand to touch the three puckered scars that marred her right cheek, another reminder, another shield to keep her honest against the evil that still whispered to her in the dead of night, and sent such terrible nightmares to punish her for her rejection.

_We are not yet done… we must have one…soon… now…_

Moving carefully, not wishing to wake the man that still slept away his exertions, she slipped from beneath him and from the cushioned bed. She needed to breathe, she needed air. Quietly she picked up a dress from the chair where it had fallen and wrapped it around her as she moved to the door and opened it, breathing in deeply of the heated, stale air and though it was stale, it was better than the fetid air inside which carried the scent of sin and fear; a scent that rarely left her.

Miranda leaned against the doorway, letting the tears come freely, welcoming the salt taste that washed away the lingering tang of soured goat milk kisses lavished on her by the trader in her bed. Silently she prayed the moon would wash away the touch of wickedness that lingered on her and allow her to live a normal life… so that she _might_ consider the hostel, and not have to come back here night after night at the whim of the gods, and whatever man had the money to pay for the right to take his relief at her expense, for none of them knew what _she_ paid for each touch.

Shivering again, she pulled the dress around her tightly, and watched the two figures moving through the shadows cast by the moon. Sending herself out into the moonlight she watched and listened… the young one, following the older one through the tangle of dwellings out there beyond her door.

"But what are we _doing_ here, Papa?"

"I'm looking for someone, Meren, now hush, child. People are sleeping here."

Miranda was suddenly grabbed and pulled away from the door, back into the hovel and the door was shut, roughly, though without a sound. Before she could catch her balance, she was tossed back toward the bed, where she landed face down with the weight of the trader behind her.

"Going somewhere? I paid well for you, and we are not yet done," he said hotly against her ear. She whimpered as he pulled the dress away from her body, and she pressed her scarred face against the cushion, to hide the tears as he spread her open, and took her again, hard and fast.

The scream… though she did not voice it… echoed across the plains.

* * *

Katharine O'Connell's eyes snapped open as something startled her awake. It was dark in her room. Someone had turned out the night light. All she had to see by was the moonlight, coming in through the crack in the curtains. It made everything look bigger. It made everything look strange and unfriendly.

"A… Alex…" she called out, barely above a whisper. Her brother's room was closer than her parents' room. He was home from school. He would hear her if she called. "Alex!"

He didn't come.

Where was he? Why didn't he come?

Slowly, she sat up, tilting her head at the whispering of the leaves on the tree outside her window. What was it telling her? Outside things always talked to her… especially in the dark. She listened harder, a little frown on her face.

"What is?" she asked. "Talk louder. I can't hear you. I can't understand."

Again she fell silent, listening… after a moment she forgot about all the unfriendly things that inhabited the corners of her room and ran toward the window… pressed the right side of her face against the cool of the window pane.

"New what?" she asked, starting to be a little afraid again.

"Kat?"

A small voice moaned her name from the doorway and startled her. She jumped away from the window and turned to face her little brother. He was wiping away tears from his face and pushing at the dark curls of hair that framed his cheeks.

"Sam, what's wrong?" she came to him, to put her arm around his shoulders. "Did you dream?"

"Bow-wow," he said, "Nake."

Katharine frowned. "Where? In your room?"

Sam nodded and her frown deepened. The dog, perhaps… the housekeeper had a dog, and never kept it shut in her own apartment very successfully, much to her father's chagrin, as he often stepped in the little gifts the animal kept leaving in the middle of the hallway, but the snake? How on earth would there ever be a snake in the house. Her parents wouldn't hear of it. They both hated snakes. Uncle Jonathan too. She had once found a grass snake in the meadow by the lane and brought it back to where her family were picnicking under the chestnuts, and Uncle Jonathan had slapped it from her hand and stomped on it until it was nothing but a pile of bloody pulp under his heel. It had scared her terribly and to this day she had never gone _near_ snakes and knew that none of her family would either.

"There _can't_ be a snake in the house, Sam, Mother would never allow it," she told him, and reached for his hand. "Come on."

"No," he pouted, snatching his hand away, "seep here."

"You can't sleep here, Sam."

"Why?"

"Because…" she faltered, looking back over her shoulder to the whispering tree, "…it's too noisy here, that's why." Then she smiled, and took his hand saying, "But I'll come with you and we can both sleep in your room."

Sam smiled, the full pout disappearing beneath the rising sun in his face that she knew would be twinkling in his eyes. It always did when he smiled. He nodded and allowed her to lead him back along the hallway.

As they neared his room though, his steps became slower. He dropped behind her and began to tug on her hand. When she listened, she became sure she could hear something hissing and not like the wind in the trees. The hallway was empty, but the shadow… on the wall…

She peered again at the space between the railing and the wall. Again she saw nothing… nothing that would explain the shadow cast in moonlight from the opposite window that swayed and danced on the wall, like a cobra waiting to strike.

"Sam…" she whispered to him as she stopped moving. "Get back there…" she gestured toward the far railing and let go of his hand so that he could do as he was told, watching as he backed away.

A loud hiss made her turn back to the shadow in time to see it bob and weave more angrily on the wall. She almost screamed when it lunged, but from inside Sam's room came a low growl, and before the shadow-snake could move any closer to her, or to Sam, another dark shape leaped from out of the room catching the shadow as it flew.

Sam ran to cling to her as there was a brief cacophony of hissing and growling, and she held tightly to her brother, holding his head against her shoulder and watching as the housekeeper's dog seemed to wrestle with something there on the landing in front of her. She tilted her head, watching – becoming almost impassive as their canine bodyguard fought for them… and then it was over. The hissing was silenced and the dog, limping slightly, came to lie down beside her feet.

"Good boy, Dale," she said softly.

"Oo bis." Sam said, pulling away from her.

"You want to give him a biscuit?"

Sam nodded, and after a moment's thought, Katharine did too. "All right," she told her brother, "but you get back into bed. I will go and get him a biscuit from the kitchen and come back."

She could not have been gone for more than a minute, perhaps two… but when Katharine returned, the landing was empty except for a small pile of leaves and Sam was sound asleep in his bed. She slipped in behind him and wrapped him up in her arms, smoothing down his hair.

"Iset simuey," she whispered softly, kissing the side of his head, before she laid her head beside his on the pillow. _I will _always_ keep you safe._

* * *

His touch burned her, dissolving the world around her, casting her into darkness where even the moonlight that came in through the crevasses in the ceiling would not reach.

"_Faithless woman… we must have one…"_

_The darkness around her formed into shadows, the shadows moved, all coming toward her… climbing and tearing at her. She closed her mouth tightly, moved her arms so that she was leaning on her elbows with her forearms over her ears, refusing to listen, keeping them away from her… trying to keep herself safe._

"_We must have one…"_

_One of the creatures crawled over her back… pricking her with its claws as it moved over her to get to the man behind her, to melt over him like ice cream over a hot apple pie, coating him like a second skin._

"No," she moaned as the man pulled away from her rear, and turned her beneath him.

"I paid you--" he argued

"Not well enough for that!" she tried to push at him, push him away as he pressed down on her. She could not allow him there, not now…

"I think so," he said coldly, reaching between the two of them to fumble himself into position between her legs.

"Please don't," she tried to reason with him, offer him an alternative, "What if I--"

"I paid you," he said again. "_I_ will have you, or the authorities will."

Caught, she sobbed, but stopped struggling with him. He gave her a superior, cold smile, and apparently approving of her acquiescence, entered her as slowly and as deeply as he could.

_What intelligence had given them this knowledge, the terrible surety of the way to reach her? She bucked and writhed under them as they played and fed, her body their plaything, their table… pain from all sides making her powerless. She couldn't fight, she couldn't move of her own volition, could barely even breathe, used as she was, descending deeper and deeper into darkness. What would it mean? What would happen to her…? . She screamed… terror._

_Her breathing was shallow… in snatches… she was becoming faint, light headed, trembling at this assault of darkness._

"_We must have one… surrender…_"

"Please," she gasped, appealing to the trader that sweated over her, "I can't… breathe…"

Lost in his passionate possession of her flesh, probably the first woman his body had touched in years, he did not hear her… did not stop. His eyes sparkled darkly in the scant moonlight as he rutted there with her, his movements becoming wilder, faster, hard as before…

"Please," she tried again, "He-- Hel--"

_As she screamed there was a flash of light in the darkness over her… a light that began to fall, falling toward her. It looked like a bird; a hawk… surrounded by starlight._

"_Please," she gasped, "Hel—Help!"_

_Still the starlit bird fell._

* * *

Meren stumbled, and automatically reached out for her father. Her dark hair fell across her pale face and she felt as though someone had put out the moonlight… speared her from her navel to the top of her head. Stealing her breath…

"Help..." she gasped, "…me!"

She did not feel her father's arms supporting her as he turned to her and crouched before her.

"Just see… child," he told her gently.

* * *

Anas turned as he heard the first of his daughter's breathy words…

"Help… me… Help… me…" she chanted, as though she couldn't catch her breath. He tenderly caught hold of her arms, crouching down to support her.

"Just see… child," he said softly, "Breathe… do not let the vision blind you."

"Papa…" she clutched at his arms, "it's dark."

"Allah and His Prophets speak to us all in different ways, Meren," his voice was soft, patient, and full of love for his daughter. "Your fear darkens your sight. Trust… and see."

_

* * *

She called for his help again, drawing him closer, toward her… toward the claws that twisted his way and tried to tear him, tear his wings. Surprisingly gently, he set down on the dark floor of the pit._

"_No," he screamed trying to move away from the creatures as they came closer, but finding he couldn't move._

"_Help me, please!" the woman begged him. "A touch from your hand… a word… just a moment of your starlight, PLEASE!"_

* * *

He was close… she could tell. Miranda could always tell… she used what little strength remained to try and twist aside, knowing from those things she saw and felt in the place beyond the world, that possessed her at these times, that if fulfilment came then something else, more terrible and terrifying than anything she could name or imagine would follow close behind.

She was cursed. This was her curse. This was the vision Nebkhat had shown to her in the Temple of Nephthys just before she had fled.

"Please!" she implored him, "Stop!"

"_Stop him… Please…" She turned her head to face the young man that settled to the floor of the darkened pit on shining feathered wings, as though he were some angel. He was bronzed from the sun, Egyptian mystical symbols painted over his skin. She could not see his face, but the shape of it was handsome, his long hair held a slight wave, and from the fine scented oils that anointed his hair and body, he reflected the dim starlight, "He brings--"_

_She screamed again, as heat and cold both at the same time exploded through her soul… pain driving her pleasure, dragging her into oblivion…_

He moaned, and then gasped sharply. Mirranda cried out sickenedand terrified at the horror which came after.

The trader began to shrivel… wither and decay even as he slumped over her,until he was nothing but a dried husk of a thing… until even that was gone as he shattered apart, nothing left but fine black sand that drifted lazily to the ground.

* * *

"_Stop him… Please… He brings--" The woman screamed, still reaching a hand toward him. Screamed in pain and fear… terror. The kind of terror he had seen before… _

_He made a desperate attempt to move to the woman, to help her, to give her something that would take this terrible sight from his eyes..._

"_It isn't time." The new voice stopped him from moving. "You will help her, but now is not the time, my star."_

_He turned to face the speaker, a woman… no, not a woman… a goddess…she was so beautiful. Her face was a flawless oval, her skin unblemished, her eyes, shining with life… all framed by exquisite long brown hair. She was perfectly exotic… giving off the strength of a dragon, and the peace and gentleness of a dove._

"_Who are you?" he asked._

"_I will find you," she told him. "Go now. They are worried about you."_

"_But I--"_

"_You were not meant to act," she said, answering him as though she knew what he was going to say, "only to see. Just see…"_

_She reached out a tender hand and pressed her fingertips to his lips to silence his argument. "Remember…" she whispered._

"_Daiman," he breathed in response, "Ahteenyamhai…"_

* * *

Suhayl cried out, and woke, reaching for something… startled, Ayesha jumped back, then herself reached out to try and soothe the boy, even as Meiri came rushing back to their side.

"Gently, Suhayl," Ayesha said softly, "You are safe."

She smiled at Meiri, withdrawing. In truth Meiri knew that she had not been able to do much more than clean up after the nosebleed that had made them send for her. She had determined that he had not broken his nose, had not had a bump on the head and apart from the bad dream and bloody nose, was probably perfectly healthy.

"You had a dream," Meiri told him, as he looked up at her, and then past her, confused at the presence of his parents in his room, not to mention the healer. "Do you remember?"

He closed his eyes and sighed, a moment later Meiri saw he paled again and knew he must have remembered. She reached for him, meaning to pick him up and rock him in her arms, lay her head along side his… but at their heads touched together it was as though a spark had leaped from one to the other, and the images of his dream rushed at her thick and fast, making her feel dizzy and sick. She gasped…

_Her face was a flawless oval, her skin unblemished, her eyes, shining with life… all framed by exquisite long brown hair. She reached out a tender hand and pressed her fingertips to his lips to silence his argument. "Remember…" she whispered. "Daiman," he breathed in response, "Ahteenyamhai…"_

…and pulled away, looking at him in shock.

"Meiri?" Ardeth came to her side then, a worried frown on his face, "What is it.?"

"Allah forgive me," she whispered, horrified, "I have given the curse of sight to our son."


	2. For the Safety of the Twelve Tribes

Star of the Morning Chapter 2 

"Forgive an old man's not understanding, but," the Elder AaHran stood and looked around the other Elders gathered in the council hall, "is it not a _good_ thing that the child can see beyond the obvious? Intuition is always good in a young warrior."

"Intuition is one thing, AaHran," countered another of the elders, "but we are not talking about intuition, we are talking about sight… visions… and ones that debilitate the boy when he has them."

"We must think of what is best for the future of the Medjai, and so must question if he is fit to succeed his father." Fahad said softly.

Mohammed listened to the debate that swung back and forth between the Medjai Elders, keeping his own counsel, until with a viper smile, following Fahad's words he said, "Ardeth will not like that we question his right to choose who will succeed him."

"Since when did _you_ care what our First Medjai would like or otherwise?" another snapped, "and to my knowledge we only debate the choice, not the _right_ to choose."

"Of course," Mohammed conceded with a little bow of his head, more to hide his growing smile than to honour his fellow elder's voice.

"Still," the eldest of them found his voice, pulling himself to his feet and leaning on his walking cane, "with everything we have heard, I too doubt the wisdom of accepting the risk of such weakness in our future. Perhaps Tareef--"

"No!" Fahad and several of the others were at once on their feet protesting the suggestion.

"The boy is completely well now," the eldest of them said, a slight laugh in his voice, though not of amusement, more of disbelief, "there is no sign of weakness in him, _and_ he is the son of Ardeth's legitimate wife."

"Well or not," AaHran shook his head, "his blood is tainted with that of an outsider. The Commanders will not serve one who is no longer Medjai."

"And Ardeth has no other sons," Fahad added, "the Usertim witch bore another daughter the last time, and the healers have advised that his wife not conceive again."

"Was it truly so dangerous for her, I find that I wonder," a third elder added his words to the melee of the political war. "How overcautious are the healers in this. Ashna is young yet. How much of the problem was because it was two she carried, and one of them sickly at best?"

"What are we to do? Order that she conceive against what she has been told?" The eyes of the elders turned to face the speaker, Amim, who rose to his feet. "We must have a care, brothers, lest _we_ bring about strife among our people. It is our place to govern, not to order life and death… and death is what they have said she could face, were Ashna to conceive again."

"She will do what is best for the Twelve Tribes." Fahad spat. "Ishaq's daughter will do as she is told!"

"But _is_ it?" questioned another.

"We _need_ another son to secure the future of our First Medjai's line and the safety of all of the Medjai." Mohammed insisted.

"Or the Bay line must step down," Fahad suggested, almost unheard.

"Again, we are ahead of ourselves," Amim's soft voice wrapped a calming balm around the tempers of the elder that were beginning to fray. "Suhayl may grow beyond the afflictions of his childhood. One of Ardeth's women may well deliver him another son. Why must we so precipitously decide the long course of the future? And Fahad… the Bay's have led the Medjai all down from the time of our Pharaohs, to suggest this now… why… it sounds to me much like treason."

There was a murmur of approval at that comment and several among the standing elders retook their seats, looking between Amim and Fahad. Fahad shook his head.

"Since his father's time," he sighed then, "since Kareem was First Medjai, the Bay's have led us into nothing but danger. This latest…? The Usertim witch and her bastard offspring offered to us as our future leader…?"

"Have a care, Fahad, such talk _could_ well be treason," Mohammed said softly, looking pointedly at his fellow elder.

"I wish only to see a secure future for the Medjai, Mohammed. Is that treason?" He turned then to the others, appealing to each of them to listen to his voice, to the reason in his suggestions. "We are in a time of war. There are invaders bringing a hostile army to ruin and plunder our sacred sites and defile our ancestor's resting places… and what says our First Medjai? That we must not become involved. He tells us that the SaHra will do the work that should be ours, in defending our country… our people… our heritage. I am sure that Ardeth has reasons for his orders, but they are not ones that he shares with his council… and what _of _the future? Already we have lost him once, and _almost_ a second time. What future does he leave for us, but a boy cursed by birth from a Usertim w—Priestess, with visions that leave him writhing in fear and pain? What chance does that give the Medjai? And what alternative? A boy born sickly and, in the eyes of many, no longer of Medjai blood. No… it is not safety he offers us, our First Medjai… only turmoil. Mark my words. It will come. It _will_ come."

Fahad took his seat after falling silent; looking around the others. His eyes met Mohammed's, who was likewise watching their fellow elders, to gauge how they had taken Fahad's words. For a time, there was murmuring around the council hall as the elders turned to each other, offering their thoughts between pairs and small groups of themselves. Eventually AaHran raised a hand and a slow silence descended once more.

"We must vote, gentlemen," he said into that silence, "on the several courses laid before us. Those that would have us press among the Commanders of the Twelve Tribes for a way to remove Ardeth Bay as our First Medjai, raise your hand to indicate your desire."

Mohammed counted the three or four men with hands raised. It was more than he would have expected… given more time perhaps there would have been more still. Fahad had spoken persuasively, emotively, but four was not sufficient among them to carry the motion. He nodded to himself – so be it.

"Those that believe we need another heir than Suhayl to lead the Twelve Tribes after his father, raise your hand to indicate your desire."

It was less clear a vote. Some of the twelve elders dithered, part raising their hands before lowering them again, looking profoundly uncomfortable. They would have to tread gently now… careful and slow. Seven hands remained raised for the count. Not enough to carry the vote, but sufficient to show a clear doubt of confidence in the Usertim bastard-born. Mohammed watched as AaHran shifted uncomfortably in place, seeming unsure as to what should now be done.

"Perhaps…" Fahad spoke up before AaHran could find a place to start.

"Go on," AaHran said.

"Perhaps the members of the council would feel more comfortable if there were a _choice_, an _alternative_ in case the future bodes not well for the heir." A mumble of relieved approval swept around the gathered elders and Fahad continued, "Perhaps the vote should be not to _remove_ Suhayl from line of succession, but to provide him with a brother who might… so to speak… step into any breech… that could be left should his _gift_ prove to be too much for him. I would be more than happy to approach the Lady Ashna on behalf of the Tribes."

AaHran nodded. "Those who would have us petition the Lady Ashna to provide the Twelve Tribes with a brother for Suhayl…"

Even before AaHran had finished, eleven hands, including his own, were raised. Mohammed watched as Fahad nodded his assent to speak with Ashna, and one by one, the elders left the council hall. He remained a moment longer, watching Fahad's retreating back before he too left.

* * *

Miranda leaned her head against the cool stone in the shade between the buildings where she sat on the step of the hostel. She looked out at the back gate, the new bolt shining in the sunlight, drawn across now that it was late afternoon, sunlight in the shadow. Her head ached and her belly churned again with sickness… and she was tired… so very tired.

Once more she reached for the cup that sat at her feet on the step. Once more her hand trembled as her fingers met the ceramic, heated by the medicine within, and sunlight winked again on the new bolt, as if mocking the shadows that haunted her, day and night. She closed her fingers around the cup and lifted it, to cradle it in both hands, taking her gaze away from the gate and lowering it into the steaming, dark liquid.

She had no choice, did she? Take the medicine, suffer the pain and then she would be free of _this_ unwanted shadow. There _was_ no choice… even if she feared it. With a sigh she shifted slight, meaning to take the cup in one hand and drain it to the bitter dregs. A hand came to cover hers atop the cup.

"Are you sure this is what you want to do?" Omran's soft spoken Arabic sounded from just behind her shoulder as he came to sit with her.

"I have no other choice," she whispered to him, tears filling her eyes.

"Another once sat here with the same choice you do," he said. "She chose differently. Her child's father came for her and now she is his wife."

She turned her head to look at him, saw that he was looking out over the meagre garden, toward the gate as she had done. She looked once more; saw that his gaze must be falling on the bolt…

"That isn't going to happen to me, Omran," she said and reached beneath her veil to wipe away the tears that washed over her face. She sobbed once as her fingers touched her scarred cheek. "This is a punishment. I've been so--"

"Allah has better things to do than punish out mistakes," Omran told her gently, easing her to face him and turning his gaze to hers. "He wishes only that we learn from them."

"You don't understand," she said, looking to find the truth of her accusation in his eyes. She found only compassion in their treacle pools. She repeated in a desperate whisper, "I have no choice."

"There is always a choice, nafisahi," he said tenderly.

"Omran, don't," she sobbed, and before he could speak again, she quickly lifted the cup to her lips and drank the still warm liquid in one breath. Its bitterness almost seared her tongue and tore at her throat. For a moment she had to fight against the constant nausea to keep it in her belly, but then it was gone, and she flung the cup aside. She barely noticed Omran easing her head to his shoulder and holding her gently.

"You must stay here tonight," he told her after a time.

She sniffed and drew herself away from him, out of his arms. Sadly she shook her head. "I cannot," she said.

"But who will care for you?"

"I will care for myself," she told him, "it's what I deserve."

"Miranda," he breathed, "none deserve this."

"Oh, I do," she pulled herself away still more, and wiped her hands beneath the veil again, to rid her face of the latest of her tears. Then she pointed inside the hostel. "Those people in there, Omran, _they_ need you to care for them. I would only be a bother."

Without another word, she climbed to her feet and began to make her way back inside. The glass of the window reflecting him as she shook his head and looked once more toward the gate… the shadow in the glass whispered softly:

_I wish you had made another choice_

* * *

It had been a long day, and he was weary and glad to return to his family. Even as he approached his dwelling he could smell the rich aroma of the evening meal and begin to hear the soft murmur of voices from within. The melodic voices of the women and the high, excited chatter of the children; the laughter of the twins… He would know that sound anywhere.

Ardeth Bay stepped into his home, and relaxed.

Meiri turned her head as he stepped inside. He smiled tenderly and waited as she handed the bowl of food she was carrying into Ashna's hands and came to him. Ashna placed the food onto the low table without even missing a step and turned to go and see to the rest of the meal. It was a seamless domestic rhythm of peace that enveloped him as he returned home. It was what he needed.

Khalidah stopped her game with Suhayl and came to stand beside her mother. As his eldest daughter, she would help to welcome him home.

"Asalaamu aleekum, Ardeth," Meiri said softly, reaching for the knot on his sash.

"Asalaamu aleekum, Baba," Khalidah's little voice added.

"Aleekum as-salaam," he answered, standing still and allowing Meiri to unfasten and remove his outer robe, and with it the dust from the desert that coated him. She took the robe to one side and returned with a bowl and a pitcher of water, scented with desert roses. The bowl she handed to Khalidah, who held it beneath his hands as Meiri poured the cooling water over his hot and tired hands.

He sighed at the pleasant feeling and then dipped his hands into the water to wash them, and to lift water to his sun baked face. As he straightened up again, Meiri handed him a soft linen cloth and he pressed his face against it to dry away the water.

"Go to wash, children." Ashna instructed and as he dried his face, Ardeth could imagine… saw Suhayl stand and take his sisters' hands, A'ini's and Luloah's, and lead them out to do as they were bidden. He felt Khalidah move away, and knew that she would go with Tareef right behind. An almost overwhelming feeling of love enveloped him then, and he took the linen from his face, dried his hands, and watched his children leave the room.

"Thank you," he said softly, handing the cloth back into Meiri's hands and leaning over to kiss her briefly. She smiled and returned the kiss before moving off to dispose of the soiled water. Only then did he move further into the room to greet Ashna, who was bringing the last of the food to the table.

"Misaa' il-xeer, Ashna," he smiled, took both her hands in his and kissed her gently first on one cheek and then the other.

"Misaa' in-nuur," she said, and pressed her cheek quickly against his, before moving away. "The desert is kind to you today?"

"It was quiet."

"I am glad for your peace," she turned a smile his way. "Please, sit. Dinner is ready."

He nodded and took his place at the head of the table to await his family. The children raced inside, laughing as they chased one another. He cleared is throat and at once they stopped and walked sedately to their places at the table. Suhayl took his seat first, to his father's right on the side of the wide, almost square table, with Tareef beside him.

"How were your lessons today?" Ardeth asked Suhayl.

Meiri sat at the opposite end of the table from Ardeth and directed the girls to sit. They were across from their brothers. Khalidah sat closest to Meiri, with A'ini beside her, and Luloah, as youngest daughter, furthest away from her. Only when the others were seated did Ashna take her place to Meiri's left.

"I learned of Abu Simbel and Ramesses the Second," Suhayl answered.

"And what do you think?"

"I find his closeness with the goddess Hathor… interesting, Baba," Suhayl said with a shrug, "_the Mansion of Horus_ and the sky where the sacred birds fly."

Ardeth nodded slowly, and glanced at Meiri, who looked down at the table top rather than meet his eyes. "Why?" he asked his son.

"Because Hathor was Re's destroyer of man and Horus protects. It's like a balance, Baba, a scale… just like in my dreams."

"All things need balance, my son," Ardeth said with a sigh, "Perhaps that is why you dream this."

Then with a smile he reached out and ruffled his son's hair. "But we allow the food to grow cold and Ume has worked so hard with Ume-Ashna to feed us." He folded his hands atop the table for a moment and bowed his head, blessing the food before they all began to eat.

_

* * *

Horus protects…_

Meiri looked from her son to the man she loved. But for her… but for who she was and what she had done, neither would be brushed with the wing of the ancient divine. Warriors for God, perhaps, but not, as she knew now, on some hidden plane the embodiment of the gods themselves. It was almost enough to stop her from wanting to eat at all… almost… because she knew that if she did, Ardeth would want to know why and it would all begin again… the fight… the words and the fear that they would never again be able to live only as man and wife, without the shadow of the gods as Damoclean swords over their heads.

She should not have returned. The people of Al-Kharga no more accepted her now than they had ever done. It was only misfortune that had brought her home, and Ardeth's insistence that kept the uneasy peace that allowed her to stay.

Almost three years… had it really been so long?

* * *

"_Healer!"_

_There was a note of anguish, of panic in Rashid's voice as the Chosen thundered into Al-Kharga. Even before he and Asif had Ardeth down from the horse that had carried him home, Tarek dismounted and ran toward his dwelling, calling for Ashna._

"_What is it?" Rashid turned his head as her voice sounded. "What's wr-- Ardeth!"_

_Holding her belly, big with the children she carried, she raced across the space between their dwelling and where the chosen stood protection around their fallen leader. Rashid caught her around the waist and held her back as the healers, two of them, arrived._

"_Let them work, Ashna," he said as strongly as he could. It did not take a healer to know that the wounds Ardeth had taken in the battle were serious in the extreme. Ardeth might have heard Rashid's worry, for then his breathing shuddered and failed._

"_Let her go," one of the healers instructed urgently, and without pause told her, "Breathe for him, Ashna."_

_They were working as fast as they could to stop the bleeding of his many wounds. Ashna pushed hard against Rashid chest, trying to break his hold on her._

"_Go," she pleaded with him, "Bring Meiri."_

_He let her go then, and she all but fell to her knees beside Ardeth even as the healer cried again._

"_Breathe for him!"_

_He watched in horrified shock as the three of them fought for the life of his First Medjai, warrior brother and friend; Ashna bending over Ardeth to give him the very life from her body. She looked up at him then, her shaking hands red with Ardeth's blood, a fleck of which coloured her otherwise pallid lips._

"_Bring Meiri!" she told him again and the finality of it broke horror's hold over his flesh. He threw himself into the saddle of the nearest horse and rode for his life to the cave that was home to Meiri._

* * *

"What are you thinking?" Rashid turned his head as a soft touch came in the middle of his back. He smiled as Ghayda came beside him.

"I was just watching the wind across the water," he answered softly.

"No," she said, and brushed back a strand of her hair that blew across her face.

"No?" he asked.

"I know you, Rashid. You have something on your mind." She took his hand and drew him to the water's edge, and down to sit with her, their joined hands trailed in the cool clear waters of the oasis. He sighed.

"I heard some of the warriors talking today, hayati."

"Do I need to ask what they were talking about?"

He shook his head, but answered, "Many things. Ardeth… Suhayl…"

"Meiri?"

He nodded.

"You cannot expect them to throw off thousands of years of prejudice in an instant, Rashidi," she told him tenderly. "What has it been, two, two and a half years?"

"Almost three."

"Oh, all the difference six months will make."

He sighed and looked at her then. "I am worried, Ghayda. I… _feel_…" He freed his hand from hers and pressed it to his belly. "Here… something is coming, awaiting its moment and when it comes… When it comes it will be worse than anything we have known and I… I worry for you; for _us._"

"For us?" Ghayda tilted her head. "No, Rashid, you need not worry for us. We have survived through many terrible things. Our love will guard us through anything."

He shook his head, and gently took her face in his hands, "I worry, Ghayda, because it was I that brought her back."

"You brought her back because you believed he was dying. We all did."

"If they rise against Meiri… they will rise against me. If they have not already." He sighed. "How _is_ Aria?"

"Resting," she answered, leaning against him. "They say she will be well."

He nodded, "And you?"

"I am well, my husband," she said, but he felt her sigh as she slid her fingers through his own.

"I brought her back…" he whispered.

_

* * *

She trembled as Rashid lifted her down from the horse, trying to ignore the pain in her back and belly from so hard a ride, so heavy with child. She held fast to him while she caught her breath… until she could force her legs to bring her to the Healers' Hall._

_The coppery scent of blood washed over her as he brought her inside, and to the cot where Ardeth lay, pale as death, barely breathing. He was covered in a light linen blanket to the waist, and above were bandages, already soaking through with blood. Ashna sat beside him._

"_Meiri," she tore her eyes from the sight of him and turned to Ayesha as the other woman placed a hand onto her shoulder. "I am glad you are here."_

_That more than any other moment hit her hardest, and she sobbed aloud. Her hand flew to her mouth as though to catch the sound._

"_I am sorry, cousin. I have done all that I can for him. He is in Allah's hands now," Ayesha said softly. "Go to him."_

_Meiri crossed the small distance to his side, catching Ashna's hand as she made to stand. "Stay… please."_

_Ashna nodded and took her seat once more as Meiri knelt at Ardeth's side. Meiri took his hand in hers. "He's… cold," she said and moved to pull the cover further over him, then reached to brush a lock of bloodstained hair from his closed eyes. "Oh, Ashna…"_

"_If anyone can save him, Meiri, you will," Ashna replied, but she shook her head._

"_I cannot. Not again. There is a geas … a price that I am not willing to give. I understand that now." She wept then. "Even if it means his death."_

"_But they--"_

"_They already hate me, Ashna. I cannot make it worse."_

_The two women fell silent… each of then holding to some part of the man that bound them together, the father of the life that grew in each of their wombs._

* * *

Ashna leaned over and quietly tapped the back of her daughter's left hand. Luloah dropped the morsel of date-cake she held, and snaked her hand beneath the table, reaching instead to pick up the food in her right hand. Ashna looked up then to meet his smile before a cough from outside disturbed them all.

"Come," Ardeth said and a moment late the door flap was held aside and Elder Fahad stepped in.

He greeted them all formally and then added, "Forgive me. I am disturbing you?"

"Not at all," Ardeth said quietly. "We were almost finished. Perhaps you would join us?"

"Thank you, that is kind of you, but," he paused and his eyes flicked toward Ashna, "if it is not too much trouble, I should like to speak with your wife."

His eyes narrowed. "What business do you have with my wife that you cannot discuss with me?"

"A personal matter, First Medjai. Please… it will only take a moment." He looked toward Ashna. "Perhaps we could take a walk, First Lady."

Ashna shook her head, "I am second wife to the First Medjai, Elder Fahad. Meiri is your First Lady."

Ardeth fought hard to keep his face impassive at her bold response, instead he said, "Anything you wish to say to my wife, you may do so here. There are no secrets between us, nor will there be. Besides, it is inappropriate for Ashna to be walking alone with another man. Even you, Honoured Elder."

"Surely," Fahad answered smoothly, "you feel no threat from me, First Medjai. Send a chaperone if you wish. Though you seem to feel no need to chaperone your… First Lady when she meets with your Honoured Second…"

Ardeth began to rise, not at all liking the direction the conversation had turned, but was halted by a soft touch on his arm and the upturned gaze of his children.

"It's all right, Ardeth."

He frowned as Ashna's touch trembled slightly. He could see in her eyes that she wanted no more strife between their family and the Elders, but also the fear and something else… almost as though she had expected the visit. He rose anyway, and took her hand in his.

"No, Ashna, it is not," then he smiled to soften his words, "But for the sake of peace between us… Go with Elder Fahad. I will see you later."

He softly kissed the knuckles of the hand he held, and walked with her to the door to follow her into the courtyard with the Elder. She moved with almost visible care to a place a good man's reach from the elder's side and began to walk with him slowly. When they were almost out of sight, he nodded to Essam and Bahir, who moved off behind Ashna and Elder Fahad. There were always guards from among his chosen nearby to the house.

"There is malice in his heart, but I do not think that he would hurt her." He spun round as Meiri spoke. The table was empty now, and he could hear the sound of the children coming from their rooms. "She will tell you of what he speaks. You know that."

He sighed and leaned in to the touch she placed on his chest. It was gentle and calmed his heart, gave him clarity to see.

"And so does he," he answered, knowing the right of it. "So why does he need to take her away?"

"It is a demonstration. Nothing more," she said. "A message to you, to warn you that you should not become complacent where the Elders are concerned. We both know that they will never give you peace so long as I am--"

"No, Meiri," he interrupted, knowing what she was about to say. "Let them protest as they will. This is your home. Your place is here with us and nothing they can do will change that."

"Oh, but they will try," she said. "They have never stopped."

"One day, I will find a way and it _will_ end," he promised, drawing her into his arms against his chest. "Let me come to you tonight."

He felt her shake her head.

"Tonight you must go to Ashna," she told him. "You have already been so many nights with me. You risk losing her… giving her a reason."

"You believe she would turn against me?" he asked, surprised.

Her head came up quickly from his chest and she shook her head. "No. Never that. That is not what I mean."

"Then what?"

"She is unhappy, Ardeth. She has always been. She needs every tenderness from you. Especially now."

"Especially now?" he echoed.

"Now the jackals circle her, seeking to use her against you," she moved away, and he felt the tingle of power that accompanied the deepened tone of Meiri's voice when she spoke of her visions. "You must show her you trust her… give her your love as I have always said you must."

"Meiri…" he breathed, feeling the loss of her… the distance at such times as these.

"Be husband to her when she returns," she whispered, coming back to his arms and standing on her toes to reach and gently kiss his lips. "I will stay with the children tonight."

* * *

"Mind where you are looking, girl!" Rihana grasped Ayesha's long hair in her hand and pulled her head about, away from the view of the man that entered the Healer's Hall. "Go see to your business and leave me to mine."

She gave the young woman another push and smiled as she stumbled on the edge of a discarded blanket. Let her fall and break her ankle on the thing, miserable little spy. Fly in her ointment…

"Rihana," her visitor greeted her as he reached their side. Before she turned to him she raised a hand to girl who shrank away. Satisfied, she turned to him at last.

"Girl will be the death of me," she told him, straightening the deep blue hood over her greying hair. "Always in my way."

"I need your help," he answered.

"The vote when against you then," she concurred, reading a mix of triumph and defeat on his weather lined face. It was a cruel expression he wore.

"They will not remove him, or the right of succession of his son, but," he confirmed, then paused in triumph, "but they did vote to order Ishaq's daughter to give him another son…"

He stopped as she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "She will die trying, like as not… if she is able to conceive at all."

"It is true then? What we were told?"

"Why would we lie?" she shrugged and moved away to begin cleaning up the herb table as they spoke. "Left to me I would not have said a thing. One less Bay. Of course left to me she would already be in her grave. Three less. But they insist that another of my healers, Ayesha, Bay's cousin on his mother's side be the one to attend their medical needs."

"The girl?" he nodded toward the young healer, she had been abusing as he entered.

Rihana looked over to her, moving now as she was among the injured warriors to soothe them, bring them fresh blankets… water. She nodded to the man at her side. "That's her. I'd be rid of her, but she's too good a healer to lose. Besides," she added, with heavy sarcasm. "Ardeth gave her sanctuary."

"Sanctuary?"

"She's of the Ninth. Refused a match her parents made for her on the day of her wedding. Her would-be husband's tribe, insulted, attacked. Many Medjai died including her father's favourite brother. That and other scandals… her parents disowned her."

"That was her?" she watched him blink in surprise and look over again at the blue clad youngster. "She looks so innocuous."

"Don't be lulled by her looks, habibi," Rihana spat. "Beautiful she may be, but she is the reason we cannot move more directly against our First Medjai and his bastard brats."

"There is _nothing_ you can do to--?"

"I told you. They will have no other attend them, least of all me or those loyal to me and Asiya and Bad'ia are too much the healers to cause deliberate harm." She shook her head. "No… unless you mean to murder Ayesha, and deprive _your_ warriors of a healer they may well need. You will have to find another way."

"Then…" he paused and sighed. She cocked her head and he continued quietly, "…you must tell me where to find your friends. I will agree to meet with them."

"How big of you. They serve your purpose, so you will betray your people to them."

"No!" he all but roared, then took her arm almost roughly and led her aside as many gazes turned their way. She snatched herself out of his grasp as he hissed urgently and more quietly into her face. "I said nothing about betrayal. I will meet with them… listen to their demands, nothing more."

She shrugged and mocked him with her words and tone. "It amounts to the same thing… old man."

* * *

"Ashna?" She jumped as Meiri came quietly into her room as she was brushing her hair, bearing a steaming cup. "Forgive me, I did not mean to startle you."

Ashna smiled. "It's all right. I was only thinking." She put down her brush and turned to face Meiri. "I did not hear you coming."

"I brought you your tea," Meiri smiled and held out the cup. "Ardeth will be here soon. He is with the children, bidding them good night."

Ashna took the cup from her hands and brought it to her lips as Meiri took the brush and moved behind her to help with her hair. She winced.

"Did I pull? I'm sorry," Meiri said.

"No… it was the tea. It's hot," she answered, and set it on the top of a nearby trunk to cool a little. "I like it when you brush my hair. It soothes me."

"Why should you need soothing?" Meiri asked, and Ashna noticed a note of concern in her voice. "Did Elder Fahad say something to upset you?"

"Nothing more than usual," she added with a sigh, "Except…"

"Yes?"

Ashna shook her head a little. "He tells me that my parents are trying to make a match for my little sister outside of the Tribes. It worried me."

"Why not speak to Ardeth?" Meiri suggested, "I am sure he could--"

"I should not interfere in my sister's business. Abra would not thank me for it," she said and sighed. "Besides, it would make a match… an alliance that the Twelfth Tribe needs with neighbouring Tuareg."

She felt Meiri shiver and suspected that the other woman shared her feelings about the reputation of those barbarians.

"Now you understand my concerns," she said softly as Meiri handed her back the hairbrush and kissed the top of her head.

"Drink your tea," Meiri said gently. "And really… do not be afraid to speak to Ardeth over this, Ashna. It would be for the best. You'll see."

When Ashna turned around to answer Meiri, she was gone. For a long time she sat, just staring at the cup, hearing the elder's words going around in her head.

"_There are some… concerns, Lady Ashna… that should anything happen to Suhayl, or to his brother, there are none to succeed your husband. Can you imagine what chaos would descend if that were to happen? Who then would make decisions for the good of the Tribes, as your parents have done in the matter of your sister? For the safety of the Twelve Tribes you understand why I speak with you."_

She picked up the cup and cradled it in her hands, the heat of it numbing her fingers.

"_We are worried about Suhayl… if these visions endanger him… What if he were to have one come upon him in battle? And Tareef, your own dear son, Allah be praised that he is well now, but… but what if there were a relapse?"_

Raising the cup, she tried to banish her tears as the bitter herbal smell wrapped itself around her senses and she sat with them all for a long time.

"Ashna?" his large strong hands alighted softly at the top of her arms. "Are you all right?"

She looked up at him shyly… she wished he would not come to her. Meiri was home. Why would he need to? She would not mind or complain if he stayed from her bed. Who would know? Who would she tell?

"_For the safety of the Twelve Tribes…That is why I speak with you on this."_

* * *

He paused in the doorway. She was so still and for a moment he worried that she was sleeping where she sat. Then she let out a sigh.

"Ashna? Are you all right?" he crossed the room and gently caressed the tops of her arms.

"I am… tired, that's all," she told him turning her head to look up at him before she leaned back against him. "It was a busy day."

He wrapped his arms around her more securely and pressed his cheek against the side of her head. "Then let me bring you to bed… to our rest," he murmured softly and took the empty cup from her quiescent hands.

* * *

She nodded, and did not move as he left her to go and set the cup on the table beside the door. It would be gone by morning. The evidence of their dual complicity washed away. His fingers brushed against her neck, swept her hair aside and the warmth of a kiss descended against her skin. She shivered at it.

"Ardeth…" she started.

"Come to bed."

His arms folded around her, and he carefully lifted her against him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he carried her toward the low cushioned bed at the side of the room, and lifted aside the curtain so that he could set her down.

He sat on the edge and she watched him reach over his shoulder to grasp the back of his shirt and pull it off over his head, revealing to her the sight of his strong, muscled back… the dual figures supporting the seven rayed star between his shoulders… she sat up, and ran her fingers over those sacred marks; felt his in drawn breath.

He turned to her then, even as she was reaching to unfasten the night dress she wore. His hands caught hers, and he leaned to kiss her softly. "Let me," he murmured, easing them away.

This was why he came to her, she knew. He meant to show her that he _did _care for her… to show her that she was loved.

She shivered again when his fingers caught her skin as he unfastened the ties, and then, moaned softly, her body's need stirring sensation as his warm hands slid languidly upward over her legs as he lifted her clothing from her body, breathing kisses in the wake of his touch, before leaving her momentarily to shed his own remaining clothes.

When he returned to her, it was to gather her to the warmth of his nakedness… skin against skin, and he nudged her face up to meet the kiss waiting on his lips. It was a kiss that deepened in intensity until she was drowning in it, until she opened herself to simply being in his arms… feeling his passion.

Her hands moved over the feathers of Isis' wings that spread over his chest, traced the shape of Horus' hawks head with the familiarity of one that knew it well… knew _him_ well, and felt his fingers trace over the mark on her shoulder in response… following the line of the lightning that struck the centre of the star until his soft touch circled her breast, until his hand cupped her and the warmth of his palm soothed the hardened ache of her nipple.

"Ashna…" he gasped her name as she nipped at the side of his chin… his neck succumbing to these moments she pressed closer, wrapping a leg over his hip to encourage him nearer still.

"Ardeth…" she answered as his hand slipped between them to glide within her folds and tease her there until she was breathless and giddy with sensation; until she surrendered herself entirely to the need that threatened to suffocate her. She kissed him fiercely, her open mouth pressed to his, her tongue plundering the sweetness of his breath as though it were the only antidote to the life that pressed in upon her all the rest of the time; the only thing that would banish the emptiness she felt.

She scraped her nails down along his arm, her hand reaching for his, between her legs, to ease his touch away, to move a caress of her own over his hardness until he moaned, voicing his need for her and she brought him, by her touch, to move in her wetness until they could join as one.

She gasped as he filled her, and wrapped her legs over his hips to bring him deep within, moving against him before she allowed the indrawn breath he had taken as she enfolded him to give him the strength to move. He growled softly and pressed a hot kiss to her lips, and she opened to his kiss as her body had to his touch.

She moved as one with him… driven by passion… by the power of her body's needs. Her fingers moved over him as he moved over her body. She pressed her hips against his to meet his every powerful stroke within; pressed him back against the cushions and straddled him, taking him slowly and deeply, squeezing herself around him to feel his girth moving her closer… and when the strength in her arms failed, she rolled again, pulling him to rise over her like the sun over the morning Sahara, gasping again and again as their hips met, as he moaned into her kisses and she felt him beginning to tremble against her.

Breathless she broke the kiss, and let her head fall back, pillowed against the strength in his arms, her head cradled as though precious, in his hands. For a moment… a moment only she allowed herself to believe in the illusion of love she had spent so long weaving around them both… and then the passion broke… and with a cry he lost himself into her, and she answered… exploding against him.

For a time both were still… before he sank slowly to rest against her and she cradled his head against her shoulder and ran her fingers through his hair. He whispered her name and she hushed him softly.

"Rest, my husband," she whispered, ignoring the tears that were running down the sides of her face to soak the cushions… without a sound… without moving save to continue to run her fingers through his hair until she felt his breathing slow, and the way he grew heavier against her. "This… for the safety of the Twelve Tribes…"


	3. Maybe Not the Best Idea

Star of the Morning Chapter 3 

"Please…!" Miranda rolled to her knees, pushing through the agony of fire that burned through her body from her belly upward, coming to rest against the wall. Finally… after three weeks of drinking down one foul concoction after another, the moment was finally here, and it was worse than she could have ever imagined.

As she clawed her way to her feet, breaking nails and tearing her fingers against the pockmarked wall of her home, she almost regretted not having taken Oman's advice to move to the hostel, at least until this was over. She gave a thought to trying to go back, but shook her head, clinging to the wall. "No…"

Pushing away toward the door, and staggering as though she were drunk, she moaned in fear and pain. She could not bring this to those already helpless. This was something she had to face alone as she had brought it upon herself by her actions now and in the past. This she truly believed.

"I can't…" she gasped and fought herself to try and go for help.

Sobbing, without even stopping to pull a veil over her hair and face she snatched open the door and all but fell out into the sand blown streets of il-Nihaaya. It was not yet late and residents of Cairo's slum had not all closed their doors on the gathering night. Crying in pain Miranda reached out to them.

"Help me… please…"

One of the women quickly gathered her children behind her, pushing them toward the safety of their home, turning away from Miranda before she could reach her. Miranda stumbled as she turned to another that was staring in her direction. She sobbed as her fingers came into contact with the coarse fabric of the woman's dress.

"Whore!" the woman spat, clawing at her fingers until they came away from the cloth. She pushed and Miranda toppled to her knees.

"You don't understand…" Miranda appealed, tears filling her eyes, but the woman only lifted her foot and kicked her further away. She sprawled to the filthy ground, sand stinging her face.

She lay there weeping for the pain, for the humiliation of it, until she felt the soft touch of hands on her arm and looked up into the concerned eyes of a woman in a light coloured veil.

"Please… help…" she whispered.

An almost spiritual feeling of relief spread through her as the young woman began to help her to her feet. At least she had found one decent person in this godforsaken place. The feeling was snatched from her by a harsh spoken word.

"Anisa!"

The woman recoiled from Miranda at the command of her husband, though for a moment she looked torn. He repeated his call to her and she hurried away, leaving Miranda once more on her knees, and alone. From all around her came the sound of denial… doors closing, the swish of robes and people turned away.

Ignoring the pain it brought to her hands and knees, she dragged herself along toward the corned of a nearby building, where she might at least find purchase to clamber to her feet. She laid her head against the bloody fingerprints she left on the dingy stone.

_You cannot prevail against us…_

The chilling whisper came with the next wave of pain, assaulting her head even as the agony rippled through her body. She pushed away from the wall and staggered into the alley between the buildings.

"Leave me alone!" she sobbed, batting at the air, at the shadows that seemed to be creeping from the walls toward her.

_You will never be rid of us…_

She stumbled again, and came to her knees, crippled with nausea, tearing at the source of her pain and anguish.

"Help…" she managed weakly, no longer able to combat the sensations, feeling the hands of the shadow creatures tearing at her as always before… touching her… violating her body and soul.

She put back her head and screamed… a scream that became an anguished howl.

* * *

Suhayl moaned, his breathing quickened and beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead as he turned one way and then the other…

_For a sickening moment the desert plains spun around him before he set down and folded his ethereal wings behind him. He brought his hands before him to look at them. Adult hands coloured with the sacred marks of his people. Heat shimmered in the distance beyond his hands… waving a blurred dark shape in his suddenly lifted gaze._

"_Help…" the word whispered a chill wind around him. This was why he was here again. Quickly he started toward the shadow that came clearer with each step he took._

_A woman… writhing on the sand and covered in tiny apelike figures…_

_Momentarily the reflection of buildings blinked into view in the heat still shimmering in the air between where he stopped and the woman who even now looked up and reached out toward him, her eyes begging for his help as her mouth opened in a soundless scream. Another step would bring him to her side…_

"_No…" A hand that was at once warm and cool closed around his arm and a voice he recognised continued, "It is still not time."_

_He turned his head to the beautiful woman that had appeared at his side, and looked into her clear crystal eyes, shifting colour in the wavering light. "I cannot just leave her."_

"_If you help her now they will know you. More important paths are in your future. You _will _help her… only it must not be now."_

_He felt the cooling balm of her touch on his cheek and closed his eyes, knowing, somehow, that she was speaking nothing but the truth to him._

"_Turn and see… my Star."_

_Hesitantly he obeyed, comforted by her warmth that stayed beside him. Like patches of fog on the distant horizon, the scenes played out for his eyes… like looped film, over and over…_

"_Who are you?" he whispered, "Are you even real?"_

_She chuckled then and came into his vision again. Her dark hair stirred by the rising wind. "I am real… A child like you."_

"_You're a woman, not a child."_

"_Here I am," she corrected him, "As you. Here we appear as our souls were born."_

"_Who _are_ you?" he asked again._

_She only shook her head._

"_You will know me when we meet," she said. "But now, you _must _see."_

_Taking a deep breath he turned back to the scenes before him… faster and faster they blurred together until the sense of them was lost and he became dizzy and nauseated…_

"Dragon-dove!" Suhayl cried out, and sat up reaching for the woman of his dream… adult awareness barely fading.

_

* * *

A small apelike figure tore away from a figure on the ground and scampered away into the night…Blood and water together…the pain of ropes that bound her own hands behind her back… A swirl of black robe as he turned his back angrily on the treacherous elder… lion headed warriors stalking the darkened streets, blood… blood on the sand… A swirl of black robe as he turned his back angrily on the treacherous elder… movement… rapid…a blurring of the pale and the dark…the painted figure of Anck-Su-Namun walked the temple halls… a blurring of movement, pale against the dark…_

"Ashna, no!" Meiri pulled her hand away from the cup she was washing and it felt to the ground, shattered into many tiny pieces.

Ashna hurried across the room toward her and took both her hands. She felt her hands turned first one way and then the other as Ashna asked her, "Did you cut yourself… Meiri?"

"Ashna, what have you done?" Meiri whispered.

"Meiri…" Ashna gave her a little shake, and the vision's grip broke at last. She stumbled a little almost falling against the other woman.

"I'm all right," she told Ashna, looking into the concern in Ashna's brown eyes.

"Are you sure you do not wish to rest?" She led her to a nearby chest so that she could sit. "Let me get you water."

"Ashna…" she started, and then shook her head when Ashna turned her way. "…thank you. Water would be--"

Suhayl's cry from the other room all but broke her heart.

* * *

Jaranas hurried down the barely uncovered steps, his sand coloured robes fluttering behind him. Where he walked, torch bearers, and archaeologists that were working to clear the dust of ages from the walls of the passageway turned from their work and swept into low bows that he hardly noticed in his haste to reach the far end of the tunnel.

"What do you have?" he snapped as he reached the two senior among his workers.

"Well…" one of them stammered.

"Do we _have_ it," Jaranas demanded again.

He pulled down the hood of his robe and moved the others aside so that he could press his cheek to the cold stone and run his fingers over the chiselled texts as though the words themselves whispered from the carved door.

"Sir…!" One of the native diggers came hurrying down the passageway behind him.

"You cannot disturb the master now." The second of his henchmen stopped the man that would disturb his communion. "He is busy."

"But… but they are coming," the alarmed digger announced. "On the horizon, there is dust… it can only be."

"Medjai!" Jaranas turned away from the door and spat the word with disgust. Enraged he paced toward the messenger. "Miserable little troll lied! He promised he would keep them off my back. Distract them… keep them away…"

Without warning he lashed out and clamped a claw like hand around the digger's throat. Lifting him from the ground, Jaranas moved until he slammed the man against the side wall of the tunnel.

"No… Master," the unfortunate man croaked, and tried weakly to free himself from Jaranas' grasp. "Please…"

"Away!" Jaranas ranted into the man's face, staring at his as his struggles began to fade. "And us so close!"

"Master Jaranas," one of the Archaeologists gently called his name and nodded toward the digger, "perhaps it would be better to give him your orders and let him take them to our people… tell them what you wish to be done to these intruders."

"Is it behind that door?" Jaranas asked in response, though he did let go of the digger, who fell to the ground and lay gasping like a dying fish before his eyes.

"The hieroglyphics do speak of words to guide the dawning of a new age."

"Let me see," he demanded, and once more took up his position, arms spread, cheek pressed against the stone door. "We _need_ that scroll."

"Indeed, my Lord, but," the archaeologist swallowed hard as Jaranas looked his way and squeaked, "the Medjai?"

Jaranas ignored them, so deep was he in communion with the carved door. It soothed him… confided in him of the secrets of ages… showed him…

_He sat adorned with the Double Crown of Egypt but with the world at his feet. Beautiful women surrounded his throne and attended to his every wish, his every desire… and among them…_

_She was magnificent. Moving with a catlike grace, her all but naked body shone with the burnished gold of the paint that accented her perfection. She was magnificent… and she was _his. _She walked toward him and he vowed then that he would let no other near her… no other touch her… she was to be his alone._

"Anck-Su-Namun…" he breathed. He did not know from whence the words came. He knew though that he must have her. Medjai or no Medjai, he could not be interrupted now….

"Get me that scroll," he snapped, "And find for me where she rests!"

_

* * *

Katharine… my daughter… wife… my Nebkhat…_

The words breathed over and over again as the touch of the leaves against the glass of her window, tapping as though trying to come in… a hale of stones to wake one sleeping inside.

"Be quiet," she hissed. "Go away… I want to go to sleep."

_There can be no sleep… not now… we must awaken. Bring us, child of my heart… and bring us home._

She pulled the sheets up over her head as though it could shut out the sound. She was exhausted… wanted the dreams to go away, wanting the whispering to leave her alone… the feeling of being 'someplace' else to stop. It was always that tree… always those leaves against her window… perhaps… yes perhaps if she moved the window away…

On almost silent feet she slipped from her bed and walked toward the leaded glass, getting a chair so that she could reach the catch and open the windows wide.

The wind outside blew in gusts, increasing with the passing moments, intensifying the whisper of leafy fingers against the panes.

_Bring up… Nebkhat… daughter… heart of hearts… gateway…_

"No!" she cried, and pushed hard against the catch to spring it free… the window exploded inward, knocking her off the chair to all but fly across the room. Her ankles caught on a large decorative Egyptian hourglass sending it crashing to the floor, spilling out the Saharan sand which began to swirl… a small cyclone in the middle of the room.

* * *

Alex sat upright and put down his book as the crash came from his sister's room. He got up and crossed to the doorway, a prickling sensation making him pick up his cricket bat from its place beside the door.

Slowly he crept along the hallway toward the strange whispering that was beginning to spill from the room.

* * *

The crash from upstairs sent Evelyn running across the hallway to take the staircase two steps at a time. She could hear the chilling hiss from inside her daughter's room before she could see what was going on, but the moment she arrived in the doorway she, as Alex had done, froze in shock.

"Katharine…" she whispered, her hand grasping the doorframe.

Kat lay on the floor of her room, her arms up to protect her face from the snakelike creature that towered over her, hissing and swaying as though it were going to strike at any moment. She whimpered each time the hooded head came close to her, menacing her with a rasping hiss. It was more than Evelyn's maternal senses could bear, and having thought she had lost her daughter before, and not willing to face the same kind of pain now, she started forward into the room.

"Whoa, mum!" Alex exclaimed as the creature turned its fiercely glowing eyes in Evy's direction.

"Give me that," Evy answered, snatching the cricket bat from her son's hand and raising it, advanced toward the supernatural evil.

"Maybe not the best idea," Alex advised sagely.

She gestured to a safer corner of the room instructing, "Alex, get back there."

Evy ignored Alex after that, fuelled only by the intense emotions kindled by her daughter's whimpers.

The creature in front of her swayed first one way and then the other… a forked tongue tasting the air as though it were trying to ascertain what threat she posed. She thought that if it did not think she was a danger to it then it did not know a mother when it saw one and almost instinctively she raised the cricket bat, crosswise to slam against the creature even as it lunged toward her.

It recoiled, hissing angrily and shaking its head. It began to gather its strength for another attack.

Sensing that her moment was now or never, Evy shifted her grip on the willow weapon, taking the bat by the handle and swinging it a little behind her, so that when she struck she would have added momentum to the swing. With a roar to match the rising sibilant anger issuing from the creature in front of her, Evelyn O'Connell struck forward with all the strength she could muster.

Years of lifting heavy piles of books, and experience gained the several good years at her husband's side served her well. Her strike was fast and true. The cricket bat struck hard against the creature's middle, and with surprising little resistance passed right through, releasing a shower of sand that rained against Evy's back as she had turned with the momentum of the swing.

She stood for a moment breathing hard, but feeling a good deal of elation.

"Definitely… not the best idea," Alex breathed and when she looked up she saw a growing look of horrified terror on his face. Slowly, she turned.

Where she had cut the creature into two with her swing were now _two_ piles of sand, and each one was hissing and bubbling as it began to rise and form into new shapes. Humanoid shapes, muscular and wiry, with scaled skin and heads of crocodiles were forming out of the Saharan sand that had fallen from the hourglass. Each on of the Warriors of Seth, for such they were, held in its hand a wickedly sharp khopesh.

"Not again…" Evy breathed.

"I think it's time to yell for Dad now." Alex answered her.

"Your father's out," she answered, and fear lent her strength to stifle the word _again_ that was poised on her lips.

* * *

It had been a good evening and a blessed relief from the tension in the house. It helped to be out of view of the constant reminder of the moment when everything good seemed to come crashing down around his ears. There was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he _would_ do, he kept telling himself. It wasn't anyone's fault. Just another one of the fatal blows they'd all suffered in the time since they had so long ago awakened that creature out of the cursed past. A price exacted from them for the wealth and success they'd enjoyed in the wake of those terrifying adventures.

But dear god, it hurt.

Sighing and running his fingers through his hair, Richard O'Connell, Esquire, turned the steering wheel and brought the car up the driveway toward the family home. He couldn't explain it, but as he pulled the car to a stop, an uncomfortable, prickling sense of danger travelled up his spine, to stir the hairs at the back of his neck, and make him suddenly wish he had his weapons in the back of the car, and not locked away in the basement safe.

He looked around as he got out of the car, expecting to see something out of place, but everything looked exactly as it should, except perhaps…

He looked up toward Katharine's window just as his youngest all but threw herself from the open space onto the nearby branch of the tree beside the house. She must have seen him as she leaped, because she screamed for him loudly.

"Daddy!"

"Kathy!"

"Daddy, please…" she screamed again and clung to the tree branch, looking back in through the window.

He set off at a run, knowing now that his feelings had once again been true, and that there was trouble. As he passed through the hallway he grasped two swords from where they sat on display. It would take him too long to retrieve his guns, but these would be enough… provided of course whoever it was that had broken into his house did not have automatic weapons, as they had the last time. Even so, he had to have _something_ with which to defend his family.

He too mounted the stairs in twos, and all but sprinted along the landing when he heard the angry hissing and the bell like ring of sharpened metal swinging through the air.

He burst through the doorway and instantly back-pedalled to bring himself up sharp. "Whoa!" he cried, and took a moment to recover from the shock of what he saw.

He had not been sure _what_ to expect, but the crocodile headed warriors were definitely not on his list of possible suspects. He winced as one of the creatures swung the deadly looking blade toward Evy's head… and winced again as she raise the only defence she had. The cricket bat shattered in her hands, but it did protect her from the bite of the khopesh.

"Dad!" Alex's voice snapped him out of his inaction and moving quickly he tossed one of the swords he carried with him into the hands of his teenage son.

"Evy, go!" he yelled, "Get Katharine, go!"

Without waiting to see if she had obeyed he raised his own blade and stepped forward to battle with one of the creatures. From the corner of his eye, he saw Alex, likewise, step forward, raising the sword he'd given him. A surge of fatherly pride lent him extra strength and he sneered at the creature before him.

"Pick on someone your own size!" he snapped, and swung the sword toward the creature.

The warrior easily parried the blow, and returned a repost of its own which forced Rick back, momentarily on the defensive. He had forgotten quite what it was to battle such creatures. He glanced again to the side and saw Alex, similarly engaged in a desperate blurring defence.

Anger surged in him again, and without thinking he turned the blade, spinning with it to a new position and struck again and again at the creature. It parried each of his attacks easily and made several more of its own. This time Rick would not be placed on the defensive. He met the creature's blows as it met his, and soon the air was filled with the sound of metal on metal.

* * *

Alex's arms ached, but he knew that he had to keep going, had to keep meeting the attacks with his sword, and try to get in a few blows of his own. He knew what they had to do. Remembered from before, when his father and Ardeth had battled the snake headed warriors the last time they were in Egypt. These creatures, he felt sure, like those, would only fall if their heads were separated from their bodies.

But that was something that was easier thought than it was accomplished. Each time he struck, trying to get the creature's defensive strikes to move lower so that he could attack high and god willing, take the warrior in the neck, the creature's next attack came high, and he was forced once more to raise his blades to meet the attack, and begin all over again trying to get the warrior's blades down. Fatigue was coming upon him faster than ever.

"Wottodiyowl…"

His heart lurched into his throat at the sound of his brother's voice from the doorway and the sound of tiny footfalls that accompanied the voice.

"Sam, No!" His mother's voice cried out from the space in front of the window, echoed by the higher pitch of his sister's shocked gasp.

"Essam!"

It was as though time had slowed down… the shock, the fear… Alex found himself filled with a sudden clarity, a renewed strength. He would _not_ let anything happen to his brother; would not let these creatures lay their foul hands or blades to the toddler's flesh. Growling in denial, he all but threw himself at the warrior he was battling, sword leading high, swinging without conscious thought.

For hours afterward he would replay the moment in his mind. The creature raised its blade to catch his incoming strike, but he sidestepped and turned the blade in another direction. He pushed hard when his sword met resistance, his ears filled with the angered, but dying roar of the creature as he sliced through the sinewy neck… and in the next moment was showered with sand as the remains of the warrior exploded into nothing.

Another moment passed and the roar was matched as his father's blade found its mark, severing the head of the other warrior and ending the battle in a second shower of sand.

His father turned to him, both of them breathing hard. "You all right?" he asked.

Alex nodded, then leaned down on his thighs to try and catch his breath.

"Sam…!" he heard his mother's cry again, and raised his head in time to see her set Kat down beside the window and all but fly across the room to take Sam into her arms and hold him tightly. Katharine ran to their father.

He watched as his dad dropped the sword he was still holding onto the sandy floor and wrapped his arms around Kat. She held tightly to him and wrapped her legs around his body as he lifted her into the air, and turned his back on Sam and Evelyn.

Alex sighed softly, and started to try and clean up the mess. But it would take more than just sweeping up the fallen sand this time.

* * *

As if the inhabitants of Cairo knew the evil that walked unseen among them, they tightened their robes around them, and the women pulled up their veils and hurried from one meagre pool of light to the next. Or perhaps this was the way that they found solace in the less than safe night streets of the city whose night life was perhaps not the most savoury of sorts.

Jalal was one such innocent inhabitant, hurrying home to his modest dwelling with the supplies that he had purchased. His mother would be surprised, and his sisters would be relieved at having something more than half edible vegetables with which to prepare the evening meal. Every once in a while he liked to be able to provide a more than decent meal for his family.

A half decent meal… the mere thought of it almost made his mouth water.

The rattle of a fallen slate against the rough ground had him glance around and then quicken his steps. It wouldn't do to fall foul of one of the night wanderers of the city. He knew the type. He dealt with them daily as they tried to make their living from the backs of hard working merchants. He tried to be sympathetic. There but for the grace of Allah went he and his family after all, since the death of his father all those years ago. But he had managed to keep his family on the right side of the boundary of il-Nihaaya through hard work and good honest prayer. He couldn't help himself if he thought that others that had descended beyond 'the edge' could have and should have done likewise.

Another sound, to his left this time, actually brought the breath out of his lungs in a small gasp, and on the end of it he whispered a prayer to Allah for his safe return home.

A small dark shape detached itself from the wall from the direction the sound had come, whilst a rustle, probably debris and detritus blowing in the breeze that was rising as darkness fell still thicker around the city. Jalal backed away from the shape, glancing behind and seeing nothing.

"Pull yourself together, Jalal," he told himself and continued once more on his way.

The shadow that had moved, stalked still further into the lighted path, and yowled in hunger, turning narrowed, amber eyes Jalal's way.

He chuckled. "Just a cat…"

The thin creature yowled again, plaintively voicing its hunger.

"I am hungry too," Jalal told the cat, but still he fished into the bag he carried to break off a scrap of meat to offer to it. It would not come to take it from his hand when he crouched, so he tossed the meat to the hungry animal, and, wiping his hands on the hem of his robe, he straightened himself again, and continued on his way, feeling just a little better for his act of charity.

The rustling sound came again from the side of the street, reminding him that he should hurry. After all, his family would be waiting for what he brought them. He quickened his steps once more.

As he reached the corner of the narrow street that would bring him to his home, he heard a quiet mewling call and chuckled. The poor creature must have been so hungry it had followed him homeward in the hope of receiving just a little more food. He slowed his steps and turned in the direction of the shadow that bore the sound.

"You cannot come with me," he said as he turned. "We have barely enough to feed ourselves, let alone--"

His eyes widened, and his face slackened into horror… which he voiced as a terrified scream.

* * *

He had wrapped the hooves of his horse in thick cloths to muffle their sounds and kept as much to the shadows as he could. It wasn't exactly necessary that he was unseen as he left. He was not, after all, a prisoner, but a respected elder of the Twelve Tribes. He would prefer not to have to explain his departure to anyone, least of all to the First Medjai to whom he knew the sentries would report his leaving. So he left with as much stealth as he could muster.

Once clear of the immediate area surrounding the oasis, he unwrapped his horse's hooves and mounted. He slapped the reins against the horse's neck and set off as quickly as his old bones would allow.

By the light of the stars he navigated once more to the area told to him by the healer Rihana, where he could meet again with Jaranas. The man was slightly crazy, he was sure… but whatever means served his end was more than fine as far as he was concerned. Stir up as much trouble for the First Medjai as possible and at last he might achieve what generations of his family had failed to do; what he himself had been trying for years to achieve.

A cruel, thin smile split his features at the thought of other Medjai looking to _him_ as their leader, the Twelve Tribes under his control at last. Yes… he would take whatever steps necessary…

Still smiling to himself he quickened the pace of his horse, and set his course more directly toward the rocky hideout of his allies, certain now that he was not being followed.

* * *

"Here…"

His daughter pointed a shaky hand down the darkened street to which she had led him. Anas crouched in front of her and took her gently by the shoulders.

"Wait here, you understand, Meren?" he said tenderly.

She nodded, "Aiwa, Baba." She wrapped her arms around herself once he let go of her and got once more to his feet.

"I will not be longer than I need be," he said and then with a gentle kiss to her cheek he started into the gloomy darkness between the tumbledown buildings.

I did not take him long to find her, lying where she had fallen near the corner of a building beside a narrow alleyway. He crouched at her side and reached to her neck to find a pulse. It beat against his fingers, slow and steady.

Unconscious then, not dead… His heart lifted a little. He had come in time to save the one his daughter had seen in her vision. Carefully he reached into the pocket of his robe and took out the tiny bottle that contained the smelling salts and after carefully turning the woman onto her back he waved the vial back and forth beneath her nose.

She coughed and tried to move away him.

"Gently," he told her softly, still supporting her head away from the hardness of the ground. "You are safe. I will not harm you."

"Who…" she gasped, and he saw that she wrapped her arms across her belly as though it hurt.

"My name is Anas," he said.

She opened her eyes then and peered at him for a time before she asked, "Imam?"

"Of a kind," he confirmed. "I have come to help you, if you will."

"Hurt," she whispered, and tears came to her eyes, and then she asked almost angrily, "And why would you help a sinner such as me?"

He tilted his head to one side, looking her over for signs of injury, beyond the pain he could almost _feel_ coming from her belly.

"All of us do wrong at some time or other," he said as he looked. "It is not for me to judge you; that is a matter between you and Allah. My place in this world is to help, and by His prophets that is what I will do, whenever I am able."

"Anas," she whispered his name almost fearfully, "is it gone…?"

He tilted his head again, "I do not understand."

"I was with child," she confessed, "and I have… the medicine… I…"

"I should bring you to someone who can help you," he told her and guessing what she had meant from her half finished sentence, looked for evidence of what she said. He saw nothing that led him to believe that she had succeeded in terminating the child. He shook his head. "I do not think--"

"No," she moaned, clutching at his hands, "the pain… it has to--"

"Let me bring you to someone that can help you," he said again, but she shook her head, dislodging tears that ran down her cheeks.

"Just help me to get home," she sobbed.

"I really think it would be better--"

"Please…" she begged through the tears, "just see me home."

He looked at her for many long moments; looked at her with eyes that were used to seeing the unseen. She was a bridge… around her the veils between this world and the beyond thinned… thinned dangerously.

"I will help you," he told her. Perhaps if he could convince her to trust him he could help her to close whatever rift had been opened in her life that allowed the darkness from beyond to torture her as it clearly now did. "Put your arms around my shoulders and let me help you up."

She did as he bid her and he allowed her to lead him, still supporting her in his arms, along the street toward the poorest quarter of il-Nihaaya. As they passed his daughter, the girl recoiled a little.

"Baba…" she warned, but he shook his head.

"I know, Meren, but she needs out help."

Meren shook her head. "It is not _for _us, Baba. It is not."

"Hush, daughter," Anas told her firmly. "Perhaps for now we are all that there is. We cannot know what is to come. It is not _for _us to know. For now this woman needs help, and Allah and His Prophets have sent us to her. Would you turn your back on them?"

"No, Baba," she answered, looking down and pouting as she came into step with him. "But my Star… the Star of the Morning--"

"Hush child," he told her again, feeling that she should not speak of such things in the presence of the woman now held in his arms. There was no knowing who… or what… might hear.

* * *

"You are late, Medjai!" Jaranas sneered.

"I had to wait until night fell before I could leave, my friend," the Medjai Elder answered in a far more congenial tone.

"Why?" the leader of the sect snapped, "You claim to be a chief among the elders, why must you go sneaking like some common bandit?"

"I merely wished to leave unobserved," he answered mildly. "It is better for all of us that way."

"And what of your promise?" Jaranas continued. "You said you would keep them away from my dig, and yet today I have battle with a patrol of your people."

He bristled. "It was not a patrol from my Tribe. I told you when we met before, your dig lies half way between First Tribe and Fifth. Until I have control of all the Medjai I can do nothing to prevent any other than First Tribe from acting against you."

"Well then what use are you to me, Medjai?" Jaranas half turned away and although the elder knew it was a gesture designed to fuel his irritation, he could not help but bristle still more. He tried to swallow it down. It would do him no good to rise to it and destroy this alliance that he could use to bring down the line of Ardeth Bay.

"I am certain that we can be of great use to each other," he told Jaranas. "There are many things known only to the Medjai that could well be knowledge that is useful to you. And… as I have said, once I have gained control of _all_ the Tribes of the Medjai, I will be able to allow you whatever access you need… even to the City of the Dead if such is your wish.

"Hamunaptra," Jaranas spat the word as though it were filth in his mouth, "is of no interest to me. Not any longer."

"Then I am sure there is something else," he continued smoothly.

"I do not have _time_ to wait for you to fulfil your plans, Medjai," Jaranas snapped. "I have knowledge of what I need and where I need to go to obtain it… to obtain _her._"

The Medjai elder tilted his head at Jaranas words. "Her?"

"The Princess… Anck-Su-Namun…" Jaranas spoke her name as though it were that of a lover.

"But…" for a moment he almost faltered. Allowing the sect to dig in some long abandoned tomb was one thing, but to allow them access to the Temple of the Gods, where the corpse of Anck-Su-Namun now lay rotting…

"You see!" Jaranas leaped to his feet. "I told you that you were no use to me, Medjai."

"You do not understand," he said, trying to control the panic rising in him that it was all slipping out through his fingers.

"What?" Jaranas demanded of him, "What do I not understand? Where she lies? What it will take to dig her out? I understand far more than you think _Honoured Elder._"

"Her body lies in the Temple of the Gods, Jaranas, and that is guarded by some of the strongest warriors of my tribe."

"Then call them off."

"I cannot," he confessed. "They answer only to our First Medjai. Even the Elders cannot command the Chosen."

"Well then--"

"But…" he held up a hand to interrupt what he was sure would have been a third occasion of Jaranas telling him he was of no use to their cause. "If you would give me a little time… allow me to take control…"

"And how will you do that?" Jaranas demanded impatience clear in his voice as he swung around to glare in the Elder's direction.

"Oh… there is a way I know…" he said, an evil glint in his eyes. "…to weaken the hold that our First Medjai has over the tribes… but you must be ready… when I send word, you must be ready to come to me."

"And how, pray tell--" Jaranas began. The Medjai Elder held up his hand again to prevent Jaranas from completing his sentence.

"I will tell you where to find us," he said… even though he knew that this was one of the worst blasphemies he could commit against his people. None would ever know, he told himself to justify his means. None would now the methods he used to free them from the ineffectual rule of the Bay line. After all… if Ashna had disobeyed them… it did not hurt to have more than one iron in the fire. "But you must be ready to act."

* * *

A shrill scream split the morning air in Cairo, and woke the inhabitants of a quiet quarter of the city more than a little rudely. Several men came running to the woman to see what it was that had so frightened her.

One of the men moved her aside so that he could take his place in the rapidly growing circle of horrified onlookers who were alternately praying Allah for deliverance and whispering frightened exclamations.

"Cursed…"

"The creature…"

"We must get help…"

"Medjai…"

As he reached his place in the circle the man that had spared the woman from the terrifying sight that now met his own eyes gasped. Lying on the ground in the middle of the circle was what had once been a man but which was now little more than a withered husk, all but mummified with a horrified look of mortal fear on his face.

"Allah-Haffad!" he breathed, backing out of the circle and turning at once in the direction of the Museum. He must bring the news to Ali. The curator would know what to do… and if indeed they should send for the Medjai.


	4. Echoes of the Past

Star of the Morning Chapter 4 

"Disappeared?" Evy barely glanced at her assistant as she strode through the corridors of the British Museum, shuffling through the envelopes and memos that seemed to have become the by-product of her appointment as the head of Egyptian Antiquities. "What do you mean 'disappeared'?"

"Just that, Mrs O'Connell," her assistant ran a few steps to keep up with her. "He was here last week, just before you took those few days off, and then suddenly he didn't show up for work. We called, someone even when around to his boarding house, but… that's just it. He's not there, and there's no sign of his things being there either."

Evy stopped in her tracks and rounded on the woman who all but collided with her. She was rapidly flicking through her mental catalogue to try and remember what it was that she had told the missing translator to work on in her absence. She frowned.

"And you're sure no one knows where he's gone?"

"I told you. We sent someone round to where he lives and--"

"Yes, yes," she said waving her hand and continuing as briskly as her mind was examining her memory, "I heard what you said… you sent someone to his home, he wasn't there and neither were his things."

Her frown deepened.

"Mrs O'Connell?"

"The scroll: the one he was working on? It's still _here_ isn't it? He didn't disappear with _that_ too?"

Her assistant shook her head. "The scroll is still safely in the document room."

"His notes?"

Again her assistant shook her head.

"I wonder what he found," Evy almost sang to herself, and began to retrace her steps toward the document room, "in that scroll."

Her assistant didn't follow her, and as she entered the carefully locked room, fumbling more than a little with the heavy bunch of keys that she kept on a chain around her waist, Evy saw that her assistant shook her head and set off for her office. Evelyn smiled, knowing she would not be disturbed for the rest of the day.

* * *

"Let me take that," Meiri touched Ashna's shoulder and gestured toward the sheet that she held in her hands. "You take a rest. You've been washing tirelessly since we arrived." 

It is all right," she shook her head. "I do not mind."

"Spend some time with your children." She lifted the wet linen out of Ashna's hands and nodded over to where Tareef and Luloah were rolling a carved wooden ball between them beneath the shade of a tree. "I am sure they would like to play with their mother."

After a moment, Ashna nodded, and crossed the space between the water's edge and the tree. Meiri watched her carefully as she started to wring the wetness from the linen she held, letting the dryer parts of it fall into the basket at her feet. There was a certain tired weight to the paces the other woman took and Ashna sighed as though in relief when she came to sit with the twins beneath the tree, joining in their game.

With a sigh of her own, Meiri turned back to the water and to the linen that was there against the rock, still waiting to be washed. Once it was done, she resolved to speak with Ashna.

The sound of laughter and running feet made her look up from where she was scrubbing the sheets against the rocks. She smiled as Suhayl, arriving from his lessons, chased his sisters towards where the others played. Khalidah tried her best to get away, whilst A'ini, though given consideration for her age and size – for she was little older than the twins – tried her hardest to let her older brother catch her. She doted on him, Meiri knew. Suhayl was A'ini's hero.

"Come," Ashna's voice interrupted their laughter, "Sit and drink with us now, for the sun is hot, and you must always have care with your water."

"Aiwa, Ume-Ashna," Suhayl answered at once, though Meiri saw he did not sit before his sisters had done so. Ashna handed the three of them beakers of water. Suhayl took his, but then turned to face her.

"Ume," he called, "Come and drink too."

Smiling, after wringing the last of the linen as dry as she could, Meiri picked up the basket and brought it to the shade of the tree, accepting a beaker of water from Ashna as she lowered herself to sit with the rest of them.

"How were your lessons today, Suhayl? Did Master Nazir decide a horse for you yet?" she asked.

Suhayl shook his head, and then lowered the beaker from his lips and somewhat breathless from drinking said, "There is a colt, but Master Nazir says he is too wild. He tells that the horse has bitten and kicked him, but I do not see it so."

He sounded wise beyond his tender years and Meiri forced away the pang this always twisted in her stomach. Instead she nodded, settling to listen as her son continued.

"Whenever I pass the horse calms enough. I just do not think he much likes Master Nazir. Perhaps the colt is meant to be mine and so is mean to others so that I will be his only friend," he said, taking another drink of his water after he finished speaking.

"Indeed? And what does Master Nazir have to say of your young opinion, boy?" A man's voice asked from behind them.

Meiri turned and smiled as Rashid gave her, and then Ashna a slight bow.

"Rashid," she smiled, "Will you join us?"

"My thanks, but I cannot," he said softly, "I only wished to speak with you for a moment. Would you walk with me?"

"Of course," Meiri frowned, and handed the cup back to Ashna. She rose to her feet and took Rashid's arm when he offered it in an almost courtly fashion. "Is something wrong?"

His expression told her that he wished to speak with her away from the others, and she nodded briefly, before instructing the children to stay with Ashna. She walked away with Rashid, along beside the water.

"What is it, Rashid, that you cannot say in front of Ashna?" she asked at length.

He chuckled slightly, "Only my own embarrassment." Then he sighed. "I need your help, Meiri."

"_My_ help?"

He nodded. "I… I need you to speak with Aria. Husayn is already seven and should be training with the other boys."

"But she is reluctant to allow it?" she asked.

"And I cannot command it of her," he confirmed softly, "She… I am sure that part of the reason that she never told me of him was to spare him from the life of the Medjai, but they are _here_ now and part of our tribe, my life, and if he is to have any kind of life here then he _needs_ to be as the other boys."

Meiri smiled softly, "And you think if I…. another outcast… explains this to her then she will listen?"

"It is my hope," he whispered, and then louder he said, "He is my son. Is it so wrong that I want him to have a place here when I am no more?"

Meiri shivered as the words left his lips. "Do not speak it, Rashid," she said urgently.

"Meiri?" he caught her elbow in his hand and supported her as she leaned against him slightly. She shook her head.

"I'm all right… just… things once spoken cannot be taken back."

She straightened up then and turned her head, trying to see a flash of movement that had caught in the corner of her eye. Rashid also turned and peered in the direction of her gaze. Shaking her head only a moment later she looked up at him and tried to smile.

"I will speak with Aria. I am sure that he and Suhayl will look out for each other in the way that you and Ardeth have done. After all--"

"Thank you," Rashid interrupted and then turned with her to look to where Ashna and the children were still enjoying the shade. "He's right, you know?"

"Hmm?" she asked.

"About the colt. I have seen it." He chuckled. "Each time Suhayl is near, the devil inside him is tamed. Even Nazir has not been able to gain his trust or calm the spirit in him."

"Then perhaps it is Allah's will that the horse will be companion to my son," she said, then turning back to Rashid she asked, "Will you be on patrol with Ardeth tonight?"

Rashid nodded. "Abdul-Rahman will be at my home if you need him."

Meiri shook her head. "I am sure we will be fine," she said, this time ignoring the shiver that passed over her spine as the words left her.

* * *

Miranda paced the length of her small dwelling again as she waited for the water to boil on the fire in her hearth. 

Filthy… She felt filthy and nothing she did could rid her of the grime she felt was wrapped around her like a shawl. Not even the bath she had taken at the hostel had relieved her of the terrible sensation that smothered her.

And the news… it spread among the Lost like pox. The man that had been found sucked dry, they said, as when the undead had walked in Cairo all those years before. That could not be, she knew. She had seen the abomination brought low by the sacred Medjai, just as before.

She did not understand what was happening but the feeling gnawed at her that it was because of her.

A hiss of water spat against the fire and with an almost relieved sigh she wrapped a cloth around the handle of the large pan, and brought the near boiling water to an herb laden bowl that stood on the table. Then stripping quickly and taking up a rough cloth, she plunged it into the water with barely a moment of respect for the heat of it and began to scrub almost savagely against her skin.

Each pass of the cloth unlocked more tears as still the soiled feeling refused to leave her; as the feeling of hopelessness dragged her deeper and deeper and as the pain of scrubbing at herself with near boiling water increased she sank to the floor and curled into a ball to give vent to the helpless that assaulted her then as the voices began to whisper their foul litany into the spaces between her sobs.

_We have only just begun… we are not done yet…_

"No…" she whispered amid her sobs, "please…"

* * *

"Oh my god!" Evy exclaimed as she finally reached the end of the parchment and read what she had written as the translation as she went along. She read it again, just to be sure. 

"But that can't be," she continued into the silence of the document room, "the… the mirror was destroyed and… and the Medjai still have the sistrum and… and the book of the living…"

She faltered.

"But this talks about an _addition_… an… appendix, and…" she stopped and after a moment or two said again, "oh my god!"

Quickly, but carefully she packed the scroll into its protective case and grabbing it, along with her notes, she headed for the door of the document room, still talking to herself as she went.

"I have to tell Rick… and… and Jonathan. They have to know about this and Ar-deth," she forced herself to say his name, "he should know too. It could be terrible. It could already have started if--"

"Mrs O'Connell? Is something wrong?"

She almost knocked over the security guard as he came to investigate the noise coming from the document room, and it was only then that she noticed she had spent the entire afternoon locked away translating the text.

"Oh no," she gave him what she hoped would pass for a cheery smile, "No, not at all, I just didn't realise the time and I'm rather late getting home. Rick will be worried."

"If you're sure," he said with a smile. Then evidently noticing what she was carrying he asked, "Taking work home?"

"Well… well, yes actually." She had no trouble sounding convincingly harassed, "since our new translator hasn't showed up to work we're rather behind on our workload and… and… and shouldn't you be upstairs with the exhibits or something?"

"I was, Mrs O," he said, walking with her toward the staff exit, "But I heard someone talking and worried that, you know, we might have had a break in or… something."

"I'm very glad you're taking your job seriously," she said, opening the door and stepping out into the night, "very glad indeed."

"Right you are then," he said as he saw her out. "See you tomorrow."

"Not if I see you first," she muttered under her breath, but she gave him a cheery smile and hurried on. She wanted to get home… wanted to check out some of the things she'd read in the scroll in the many books she had inherited from her father and mother.

The Mirror she knew. She had seen it, and seen it shattered by Meirionnydd when she was possessed of the spirit of the Goddess Isis. She also had the Sistrum, but a Winged Cloak? She had no idea what that might mean, but feared that the missing translator might, and she had a pretty large hunch that she knew where he had gone and that meant only one thing…

Trouble.

* * *

Ashna carried the last of the things away from the table as Meiri read to the children from a book of tales that held a favourite of each of them. She laughed as coming to the end of one, Luloah demanded another. 

"Meiri cannot read for too long in this light," she told her daughter, cupping her small face gently as she passed close by. "It will hurt her eyes, and besides, all of you should soon be to bed if you wish to grow up strong and healthy."

"It's all right, Ashna," Meiri told her softly, "One more will not hu--"

Meiri stopped speaking and Ashna half turned to face the doorway as four men entered uninvited.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, seeing Meiri from the corner of her eye as she moved A'ini from her lap. A knot twisted in her stomach as she saw the look on the faces of the warriors, a mix of hatred and knowing contempt.

"Please stand aside, Lady Ashna. We are here on official business."

"Official business?" Meiri echoed behind her.

"You would do well to keep your filthy witch-mouth closed," one of the warriors snapped.

"How _dare_ you!" Ashna started, though her bravery disappeared a moment later when two of them stepped past her, pushing her aside as they did, to go to Meiri and grab her roughly by the arms, meaning to haul her to her feet.

"No!" Suhayl shouted, and ran quickly to the side of the room where lay one of Ardeth's spare blades. He drew it quickly and demanded, "Let her go!"

The warrior closest to him let go of Meiri, but only to swat the blade from Suhayl's hand and push him roughly away while one of his companions took his place in all but dragging Meiri toward the door.

Suhayl fell, but quickly pulled himself to his feet and flew at the man again, this time with bare fists flailing. Once again he was thrust away to fall hard against the floor. He cried out and as he did, the other children began to cry and whimper in fear.

"Suhayl," Meiri called to him desperately, "Run for Abdul-Rahman, Go."

Scrambling on his knees at first, but then dodging the remaining warrior to reach the door once he had regained his feet, Ashna watched him hurry to obey and as her own shock subsided a little she moved again toward the warriors even as they once again began to almost drag Meiri away.

"Stop this," Ashna implored them, "Stop. Would you do this in front of Ardeth's children?"

One of the men faltered, "We have our instructions, Lady Ashna, I am sorry."

"To drag her over the ground while our children stand crying in fear and seeing their father's warriors behave as brutes?" she asked.

"Ashna, don't." Meiri's voice was faint and trembled with panic. "Just take them… take them ou--"

"Let go of her," demanded an even voice from the doorway. Ashna looked toward the speaker and sighed with relief as she saw that Suhayl had returned with Abdul-Rahman. "and step away."

"Do not come between us and our sworn duty, Khalifah. It is because of your father that we are here."

Ashna frowned, confused and Abdul-Rahman's eyes narrow with suspicion. His hand moved toward the blade sheathed at his side. "Be _very _careful what you say," he warned.

Suhayl moved around him and ran to his mother as they let go of her and she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. Ashna shook her head to try and break her own stillness.

"I would like you to leave our home," she said, picking up Luloah who had run to her and was clinging to her knees. "You are not welcome here and are frightening the children."

"I am sorry, Sayiida," said one of the men, "But we cannot leave unless she comes with us. Our orders--"

"From whom?" interrupted Abdul-Rahman.

"I gave the order."

* * *

Meiri reflexively pulled Suhayl behind her as the new voice spoke and looked up to see cruel light shining from Mohammed's eyes as he came into the room. 

"I might have guessed that you would resist arrest," he added.

"Arrest?" Ashna breathed, a confused expression on her face as she looked between each of the people present.

"For what?" Abdul-Rahman asked incredulously.

"For indecency, impropriety and quite possibly worse than--"

Even before he moved, Meiri was drawing breath to try and stop Abdul-Rahman, but his warrior reflex was far too quick. As the first of her words left her lips he had drawn his dagger and had Mohammed pressed against the wall beside the door with the knife against the Elder's throat.

"You--!"

"Abdul-Rahman, no!" she cried out as his knife hand twitched and the other four men began to move toward him.

"Stay back or he dies!" he warned them and each of them stopped moving.

"Suhayl, take your brother and sisters into the bedroom," Meiri told her son quietly. "Keep them safe."

"But--" the boy began.

"Do this for me, my son," she insisted, holding him close for a moment. When she let go of him he obeyed, pausing only to take Luloah's hand as Ashna lowered her to the floor. She did not speak again until the children had left the room.

"Let go of Elder Mohammed, Abdul-Rahman," she said softly, at last having space to get to her feet. Fighting the fear that was rising in her breast she turned to look at the Elder. "You are wrong, Mohammed."

"I do not think so," he said bitterly.

Abdul-Rahman tightened his grip once more pressing the tip of the knife a little closer to the man's throat. Meiri threw out a hand toward the young warrior and cried out to stop him. "No!"

Slowly, too slowly to ease the frantic beating of Meiri's heart, Abdul-Rahman relaxed a little and finally let go of the Elder. Mohammed glared at the young warrior, but held out a hand to stop his men from moving against him. Then with a shrugging of his shoulders he straightened his robes and turned to Meiri just as Ashna came to her side and took her hand.

Meiri squeezed Ashna's fingers in her own, trying to give comfort, though she too was afraid. "What… is the meaning of this?" she asked the Elder.

"You have been accused of continuing an illicit… liaison with the warrior Rashid--"

"Accused by _you_ no doubt," she spat back.

"Whence comes the accusation is irrelevant, woman," he told her. He held his head straighter as he continued, "What matters is that you are accused. You have been often alone in the company of this man, both in public and, it is known, in private. What goes on in those private moments we will discover at your trial, though all of us here are adult enough to know what passes between a man and a woman when they are alone together."

"Abdul, no!" Meiri once more held out a hand to stay the younger warrior from acting against the Elder.

"In public, however, you have been observed walking with him, unveiled and in physical contact, engaged in intimate conversation. For that alone our laws demand you be punished by the lash. If it is discovered that there truly _is_ more between you than this…" he trailed off, but everyone in the room knew the punishment. After a long silence he spoke again. "I mean justice to be done for the betrayal that you and Rashid have wrought."

"Dog! I should--" Abdul-Rahman began to move angrily once more.

"Go for you father and Ardeth," Meiri said urgently.

"I will not leave you alone with this--"

"Go!" she said again, begging with her eyes that he do as she said. He met her gaze, and after a moment nodded.

"I will bring them home," he said and hurried out of the dwelling.

Mohammed nodded, and at once the four warriors moved toward Meiri, taking Meiri by the arms and pushing Ashna from her side.

"Where are you taking her?" Ashna asked. Her voice trembled with fear.

"She will be taken to a place where she can be tried fairly," Mohammed answered almost respectfully. "The chief of a local settlement has agreed to hear the case."

"No," Meiri began to struggle with the men that held her. The fear uncoiled quickly from her belly and began to spread through all of her. Speaking quickly… desperately, "Ashna, no! You cannot let him remove me from Al-Kharga. He does not mean it to be fair…"

At a wave from Mohammed the warriors began to drag Meiri toward the door, even as she fought them. She struggled and stretched back to try and reach Ashna.

"Please, Ashna, listen to me," she cried.

Ashna started forward to come to Meiri as she still struggled with the warriors that held her and pulled her closer toward the door.

"I forbid this," she told them. "As First Lady, I forbid it!"

"I am sorry, Lady Ashna," Mohammed said, putting himself in her way. Meiri knew that he would not allow her to interfere. "You do not have that authority over this matter."

He put his hand against a pillar that held up the ceiling, cutting off any chance Meiri had of Ashna reaching her. She could not hold back the sob that escaped from her then.

"It is better this way," Mohammed's voice tightened the coiled fear once more around her chest.

"Ashna!" she cried out as they finally dragged her out of the door.

* * *

"Meiri!" she called back and tried to push her way past the Elder. He held her back. "No, let me go." 

"You cannot be involved in this," he answered, but she ignored him and continued to struggle toward the door, to get to Meiri… to be with her.

"Ghayda…" she heard Meiri gasp. "Talk to Ghayda."

"Meiri…"

"Ask her… no…" through the open door she could see Meiri struggling with the men still trying to hold her and take her away. "Ask her about Rida."

"Silence her!" Mohammed snapped over his shoulder.

"Rida!" Meiri cried again, before the sound of a vicious slap reached Ashna's ears.

"Bastard!" Ashna said hotly, and spat into Elder Mohammed's face. Guessing from Meiri's words that he had done something like this before anger so fierce it almost blinded her swept over her and she launched herself at him.

With surprise on her side she gained a good hold of his neck, digging in with the nails of one hand, pinning him to the post against which they stood and trying to shake him, and slap him with her other hand. Only a moment later pain spread from her stomach where his closed fist landed as he fought to free himself. Reflexively she let go her hold on him and staggered a few steps backwards. She did not have time to regain her balance before his backhanded slap fell hard against the side of her cheek, and he advanced on her.

"You will regret that, you little bitch," he hissed.

He closed a hand around her throat, beginning to squeeze as he grabbed her shoulder and turned her so that her back connected hard against the post where he had been pinned a moment before. Strangely shaped dark blotches began to swim before her eyes and she clawed at his hands, trying to free herself. His voice, when he spoke again, came from a long way off.

"I told you not to get involved in this," he said, and flexing his muscles he used all of his strength to toss her aside.

New, terrible, sharp pain exploded through her belly as she landed against the corner of Ardeth's writing desk, and she slid to her knees, winded… unable even to cry. She heard the swish of the Elder's robes as he turned and left the dwelling. Falling to her side, she lay curled into a ball for many long moments before she pushed herself to her feet, one arm still wrapped across her belly and staggered to the doorway, trying to see where they had taken Meiri.

It was little more than several heartbeats before another, deeper pain drove her once more to her knees. She tried to cry out for help, but no sound would come.

* * *

"She will be taken to a place where she can be tried fairly. The chief of a local settlement has agreed to hear the case." Kneeling by the doorway of the bedroom, Suhayl heard the Elder's voice saying that they were going to take his mother away. If they were taking her somewhere that would mean they would need horses. Quickly he stood up and turned to face his siblings who were huddle together on Khalidah's bed. 

"Help me to open the window, Khali," he said softly.

"Suhayl, Ume said--"

"I know, ya uxt, but… but they mean to take Ume from the Tribes. How will Baba find her if they are gone?"

She looked at him for a moment and then nodded, unwrapping A'ini from her arms she came to the window with him and together they dragged a chest beneath it so that he could stand on top of it to reach the catch.

"Look after the others," he told her before he slipped outside and ran swiftly away from the house toward the stables.

He ran as fast as his short legs would allow, not knowing how long it would be before the men would leave the dwelling and bring his mother with them to fetch horses. He was not even sure exactly what he meant to do. He only knew that he somehow had to stop them. The answer came to him as soon as he saw the stalls where the young horses were kept.

The colt.

If he could let out the colt as well as the some other horses, perhaps the young horse's bad temper would stir up the others and it would delay, if not prevent the departure of the men that had his mother.

Quickly he turned a bucket upside down and stood on it so that he could reach the bolt on the top of the stall door. The black colt inside whistled sharply, his nostrils flaring, and he danced back on his hind legs, almost rearing.

"Hush, Sab'r…" Suhayl hissed as he struggled with the lock.

Hearing his voice the colt calmed almost at once, and came toward the stall door, pushing his nose against Suhayl's hand where he held on to the top of the it… but a moment later, he shied away again, baring his teeth and uttering a shrill whistle, before lunging forward again snapping at the air with his teeth.

"Sab'r!" Suhayl admonished, but in the next moment he was lifted from his feet by the back of his robes.

"What is this?" Master Nazir's stern voice sounded in his ears as he was carried a few paces away from the colt's stall. "Answer me boy."

"Master Nazir," he gasped, turning to face the Medjai Horse Master as his feet came once more into contact with the ground. "Please… you don't understand. They are trying to take her away. I have to stop them, I--."

"Suhayl?" Master Nazir sounded confused. "What are you talking about? Who are? Who are they taking?"

* * *

Nazir recognised the boy as soon as he turned, but the hurried words that his young pupil uttered made little sense to him at first. 

"Warriors came into our home. They mean to take my mother. They say she has been..." he watched the boys face screw up with concentration and guessed that Suhayl must be trying to remember what they had said of Meiri. He waited patiently, giving the boy time, "in… inprop… in property."

Nazir knew at once that this could not have been what they had said, and quickly turned the word over and over in his head, and as realisation dawned he leaned down and shook the boy urgently.

"Who did? Who has said these things?"

Suhayl burst into tears, "El… Elder Mohammed," he sobbed.

Nazir did not have time to tell the boy that he was in no trouble, though he regretted frightening him. "How many men?" he asked.

"Four," Suhayl still wept and this time Nazir put his arm around him.

"You have done well, son," he told the boy. "Cry no more, little warrior."

At the same time he tried to think of how he might delay the Elder and his henchmen, remembering well what had befallen the last time Mohammed had made such a claim. He gave Suhayl a little push toward the back of the stable yard.

"Wait inside my home," he said and without waiting to see if Suhayl had obeyed, he went into the stable and returned leading his own horse, Niraan, and another stallion by lead ropes. The other stallion he tied loosely to a ring in the ground. Niraan he held by the bridle, talking to him quietly. Five against one, he thought would have been a little unfair of a fight – if it came to that – but with two stallions as aid…

His patience was rewarded before very much longer at all, as Mohammed came striding toward the stable, and with him four men, two of them restraining Meiri between them.

"We need horses, Master Nazir," Mohammed told him as they came closer.

Nazir shook his head. "Not and travel with a woman. I have my orders from our First Medjai. The desert is too unquiet for night travel other than patrols. Whatever business you have must wait for daylight."

"Don't be a fool, Nazir," Mohammed looked as though he would take a step forward, to accompany his angry words, but Niraan snorted and pawed at the ground at a touch from Nazir on the side of his neck. Wisely, Mohammed stood still, though his anger did not abate. "I know you have spoken with Abdul-Rahman."

Again Nazir shook his head. "I have not spoken with him," he said truthfully and saw Mohammed's eyes narrow. Then looking past the Elder to Meiri held between the two warriors, he met her gaze and saw gratitude there. He barely inclined his head and then turning back to the Elder he spoke again.

"I have told you my answer, old man," he said, "Your business must wait for morning. I will not risk my horses on a fools errand and if you try to take them against my orders I will shoot you for horse thieves, Medjai or not."

One of the two free warriors was moving closer, going to the side as though meaning to try and get around behind Nazir. He raised an eyebrow at the man, but he did not stop.

"Up!" he commanded, letting go of Niraan's bridle. The stallion instantly obeyed his rider's command and reared high onto his hind legs, turning in the direction that Nazir's push had showed, striking toward the warrior, pawing at the air nearby the man with flailing hooves. The man quickly backed away and as Niraan's front legs came to the ground again Nazir said, "Do not try that again."

As if adding his own warning, Niraan snorted angrily.

"Take her to the Council Hall," Mohammed's voice was furious and the look in his eyes was one of hate as he gave his orders to his men. "Lock her into one of the back rooms there."

Then he gestured angrily to the other two to follow. Nazir watched them go then called to Suhayl. When the boy came to his side he said, "I will bring you home and we will get to the bottom of this."

He did no more than loosely tie Niraan to another ring set into the ground. "Watch over the stables, hmm?" he whispered to his equine friend as though confident the horse would understand and do exactly that.

* * *

"Rider!" Ardeth's sentry among The Chosen cried out and he and Rashid both turned in their own saddles. 

"One man, riding hard," Rashid offered.

"Medjai," Ardeth confirmed and frowning he exchanged a glance with his Honoured Second. The rider was coming from the direction of the Oasis which meant that something must have happened. Quickly he lit a flare, and watched as the swift moving rider turned his horse and began galloping in their direction.

"Abdul-Rahman," Rashid said only a few moments later; able to recognise his adopted son as he came closer.

The young Medjai was breathless as he reached the patrol.

"First Medjai," he gasped, greeting first Ardeth and then Rashid, "Father… you must return home. Meiri… she is accused--"

Ardeth's hand shot out toward the man and grasped him by the front of his robe, almost lifting him from his horse. Only Rashid's hand descending on his wrist prevented it.

"Speak," he commanded as he let go if the young warrior.

"I do not know how it began, only that Suhayl came running for me and said that men were trying to take his mother. When I arrived the Elder made the accusation that your wife has behaved indecently with my father and he hinted at worse." He shrank away as the words left his lips as though he feared that Ardeth might strike him. He might have too, but for the shock at hearing the news. He turned his head to see Rashid and watched as the colour drained from his face.

"Mohammed," Rashid spat, hatred and disgust clear in his voice.

Abdul-Rahman nodded, "Aiwa, Abi," he said softly, and then to Ardeth he added, "They mean to take her from Al-Kharga. They did not say where. It is as befo--"

"No," Ardeth broke out of his shock and into anger. "Not this time! Abdul-Rahman, remain here with the patrol."

"Aiwa, Sayiidi," Abdul-Rahman responded, moving to take his place amid the other horsemen.

Ardeth glanced once more at Rashid. He could see the battle going on inside his friend and suspected he was remembering the time in his past when Mohammed had made the same accusation of his Rida, the wife he had loved since he and she were children together.

He found it hard to believe that Mohammed would try the same attack twice, even if the first time he _had_ been successful. Rida had been executed; stoned to death for infidelity to Rashid. It had been a lie, set up so that she would be caught with a barely sworn warrior who, terrified of the man that was then his father, had agreed to go along with the scheme because of threats against his life if he did not.

"Come, my friend," he said to Rashid and then spurred his horse forward. Marhana's stride quickly lengthened as Ardeth and Rashid hurried back toward Al-Kharga.

* * *

"Ghayda," Nazir greeted the woman as they both arrived together outside Ardeth's home. "What are you doing here?" 

"What is going on, Nazir?" she answered his question with one of her own, nodding at Suhayl that stood beside the Horse Master. "First Suhayl comes running to us screaming for Abdul-Rahman, and now I find him bringing you? And where is Abdul?"

Nazir began to speak, but hearing a sound from inside the house, Ghayda raised her hand for silence. They both listened intently, and soon the sound came again, half way between a cry of pain and a sob. She did not wait any longer. Telling Suhayl to remain outside she moved into the dwelling.

"Ashna," she gasped and swiftly went to the woman's side. Ashna was curled into a ball, hands over her belly. "Oh, Ashna…"

She looked up at Nazir who had entered the house behind her. "Help me to bring her to her room and then go for Ayesha." She moved aside to allow Nazir to lift Ashna into his arms and saw at once than he understood what was wrong. While he took her to her room, Ghayda went back outside to Suhayl.

"Your Ume-Ashna is taken ill," she told him. "I want you to go to your brother and sisters and bring them to Aria at my home, do you understand?"

Suhayl nodded.

"Tell her that I ask she take care of you. You can all spend the night with Nabilah, Husayn and Rafiq."

Nazir came out of the house and headed rapidly in the direction of the Healer Hall. She barely glanced at him then nodded to Suhayl before leading him inside.

"You are a good boy," she told him quietly. "Go quickly now."

* * *

Ayesha gently helped Ashna to settle back against the pillows and tenderly pulled the blankets over her. It had been several long hours, and now there was nothing more to be done. 

"I am truly sorry, Ashna," she said quietly as she sat beside her friend, holding her hand. "There is nothing more I can do… only to make you comfortable."

Ashna's eyes filled with tears, and biting her lip, she nodded. When Ayesha passed her fingers gently over her cheeks to wipe away those tears that had escaped, Ashna leaned in to the touch.

"He told me…" she whispered, having to stop to clear away the knot that tightened as she spoke, as the tears rose again and threatened to overwhelm her.

"What, Ashna? What did he say?" Ayesha asked her softly.

Eventually she just shook her head. "It doesn't matter now."

Losing her battle against her emotions she pushed herself away from the cushions and into Ayesha's waiting arms. Ayesha eased her head down on her shoulder and ran her fingers through her hair, rocking her gently.

"Hush now… rest…" she murmured tenderly.

Ashna only wept in her embrace. "What will…?" she sobbed. "What will… happen now?"

"Rest, Ashna…" Ayesha repeated.

"But what will… happen… to the Tribes?" Still Ashna wept.

"Ashna?" She tilted her head up to look into the confused brown eyes of the healer, Ardeth's cousin, as Ayesha continued, "What have they been telling you?"

"They said," she paused for breath, trying to get control of her tears, "He said that… that there must be…"

Once more she was overcome with emotion as her sense of failure swept over her along with visions of the Twelve Tribes falling and all because of her. She clung to Ayesha as the other woman drew her back so that she could look into her face.

"Did _they_ tell you that you must give him another son to safeguard the Tribes?" Ayesha's voice was clipped and anger burned in her eyes as she spoke.

Guilty… defeated, Ashna only nodded, and then at Ayesha's angry sigh she grasped the front of the healer's robe in fear. "Please, cousin… please, do not say anything. It does not matter now anyway, and there will be enough trouble over this, and--"

Ayesha's expression softened. "Peace, Ashna… peace." She drew her close again and once more began to run her fingers through her hair. Ashna began to calm again, though tears still leaked from between her closed lids.

"Ardeth…" she whispered.

"I will tell Ardeth. It is my duty as Healer. Your duty is to rest, try to--" She paused then, before she continued softly, "Please… you _must _drink the tea."

* * *

Ardeth and Rashid thundered into the Oasis at full gallop, not stopping until they reached the Council Hall where they both slid from their mounts and stormed inside to face the three Elders that were waiting for them. 

"Where is she?" Ardeth demanded as he came to an abrupt halt in front of the ring leader of this charade. Rashid halted just behind his right shoulder.

"First Medjai… Honoured Second--" Mohammed stepped forward, even closer to him.

"Do not!" his hands strayed to the hilts of his swords. "I asked you a question. Where is my wife?"

"Your sworn concubine? We have her safe," Mohammed answered smoothly. "Given the nature of her transgression we thought it wisest to--"

"To what?" Ardeth almost turned as Nazir pushed his way inside the Council Hall. "Drag her from her home and terrify her children?"

He came to stand behind Ardeth on his left. Ardeth bristled at those words.

"What man has _dared_ to lay a hand on my wife?" He reached out lightning fast and grasped Mohammed by the front of his robes. He did not fail to notice the scratches on the side of the Elder's neck and on his hands as he tried to prize himself out of Ardeth's grasp. "You!"

"I was assaulted as I attempted to carry out my sacred duty," Mohammed protested. "Ashna did this to me."

Behind him he felt Nazir stiffen and then the Horse Master's stepped closer, beside him now as his hand move to the hilt of his blade.

"She would not--" Ardeth began.

"Are you so sure?" Mohammed turned a sickly look his way, and nodded to the warriors Ardeth had not even seen in the doorway to the Hall. They surrounded him, Rashid and Nazir also, weapons in hand.

"I wonder," Nazir growled, "precisely which of you acted in self defence?"

"I know what this is about, Mohammed." With only a glance to Nazir he let go of the Elder, almost tossing him toward some of the assembled warriors and without fear, continued, "Do you honestly believe the Medjai Commanders will favour you now that you once again are blatantly attacking a fellow Medjai in the most cowardly way possible?"

He broke off, sheer incredulity stealing the words he had been about to say.

"Where is she?" Rashid asked in his stead, feeling eerily disturbed by the echo of his own challenge to Mohammed following in the wake of the almost identical attack. "Dakhla again?"

"Your _loyal_ Horse Master saw to it that this would not be possible," the Elder spat, "At least not for the time being."

"My Horse Master knows what is best for his people," Ardeth growled, "which is more than can be said of our Elders."

"Ardeth," Rashid put a hand onto Ardeth's shoulder and when he turned his head to glace at his Honoured Second Rashid nodded to a door that one of the other Elders had opened, through which he could clearly see Meiri. Ignoring the blades still levelled at him, Ardeth quickly crossed the room, and went in to her.

"Ardeth…" she leaned into his arms as he dropped to his knees to hold her. "It isn't true. Whatever they told you I have done: it--"

"Meiri, I know," he breathed, and took out his knife to cut the bonds that held her hands behind her back. At once she wrapped her arms around him, leaning in closer still as he held her tightly against him. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head. "Not really. Perhaps a little bruised, but I am not hurt."

He nodded. "I will take you home. Away from here, and then we can talk."

"No, Ardeth… no," she said softly. "He has already sent for the Commanders. There will be a trial."

"I will not allow it." He pushed her back to arms length, looking at her serious. "No one will believe that you have acted against me… and with Rashid…? My Honoured Second who is as close as a brother to me? We grew _up_ together, Meiri, not a single one of the Commanders would believe for a bird's heartbeat that he would do this."

"This…" she shook her head at him, taking his hands from her arms and holding them both in hers. "This attack is not about the _truth_ Ardeth, but we must _make_ it be. It is the only way to defeat him. Let him _have_ his trial. Bring the Justice here from Dakhla and let him _have_ his trial and let us see which of us is condemned when the whole truth is spoken."

* * *

"Take him," Mohammed waved his hand toward Rashid as Ardeth left the room and two of the warriors still surrounding them moved toward Rashid. Nazir was faster. His blade cleared his sheath and came to rest, point first, pressed against Mohammed's throat. 

"Do not," he warned the warriors. They stayed close, but did not lay hand on Rashid as he moved closer to the Elder and leaned down to speak to him dangerously quietly.

"I warned you once," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "That if you ever came near to anyone in my family again, I would destroy you."

"You wouldn't dare," Mohammed said mockingly.

"Wouldn't I?" Rashid answered. "With the accusations you have made against me?"

"Poor Rashid," the Elder sneered. "Cornered like a rat until he must come out fighting or surrender his life for the sake of those he wishes still to protect."

"This isn't about me any more, Mohammed," he said, folding his arms across his chest. "And you can't even see that. It isn't about me… or about Kareem or about my b--"

He stopped as the doorway was uncovered and Ayesha entered quietly. She looked pale and drawn… as though she had been crying.

"Forgive me," she said, "I must see the First Medjai at once."

Rashid saw her exchange a brief glance with Nazir and shake her head sadly, and then Nazir took in an angry breath, and once again raised his blade toward Mohammed. As he did the warriors surrounding the small group moved a little closer to Nazir and Rashid.

"Stand down warriors," Nazir commanded coldly and Rashid saw that his rank as one of the Chosen, and as Horse Master had them listen, if not obey, "for I accuse this man of murder."

Rashid gasped and looked once more at the scratches on Mohammed's neck and remembered Nazir's words and he too drew his blade.

"Ashna?" Rashid asked over his shoulder at Ayesha. She nodded.

"But… but she was fine, she…" Mohammed stammered and began backing away from the two warriors in front of him. Those in the circle lowered their blades and the two Elders standing with Mohammed moved away from him.

"Ayesha?" Ardeth's voice sounded from the doorway, where he now stood with Meiri at his side.

"I am truly sorry, First Medjai," Ayesha said quietly. "Ashna has lost the child she was carrying… and is _gravely_ ill. I have done all that I can. You must go to her."


	5. Do Not Think To Try Me

Star of the Morning Chapter 5 

"Ashna… why?" he asked as he gently took her hand.

"Ardeth…" she murmured sleepily, and against the action of the sedative that Ayesha had given to her, opened her eyes.

He smiled and with his free hand brushed back some of the hair that was pressed against the side of her forehead.

"I am… I'm sorry," she sobbed weakly.

"No, habibti… I will hear no apology since none is needed," he kissed her brow softly, "but _why_ Ashna? The healers told you that you should not--"

"Ardeth, our marriage," she paused to catch her breath, "our marriage was for the safety of the tribes, as was my decision to conceive, even against the healers' words. Only now…"

"The Tribes are safe," he said softly. "Only you have been placed in danger."

His face darkened then as once more his eyes travelled over her form… over the bruises and abrasions that were clearly visible against her arms and her face.

"I will have him banished for this," he growled.

"No, Ardeth… what he has told you is true. He was defending himself." Ashna looked up at him as she squeezed his hand, in that moment he thought she looked utterly defeated. "I attacked Elder Mohammed to try and stop him from taking Meiri."

"Even if you did," his eyes still flashed in anger, "He went too far…"

"But if you charge him now, you will make the Commanders believe that you do it only to discredit his accusations of Meiri. Surely you can see that," she said and then closed her eyes and winced as though a new wave of pain swept over her.

He sighed, knowing that her words were true, but still, "He has committed a crime, Ashna and if… if…" he could not bring himself to say it.

"If I should die from this, Ardeth, then my _father_ will also make the accusations against Mohammed."

"You're not going to die," he whispered, praying silently to Allah that he was right.

"I might," she told him, "and it is something you have to face."

Tears came to her eyes as she spoke the words and as gently as he could Ardeth gathered her into his arms to hold her as she wept what tears her strength would allow.

* * *

"Rick, I have to tell you something," Evy said as she rushed into the lounge. 

"Good evening, Honey, I'm home. Nice day at the office?" Rick said sarcastically, then more seriously added, "Whatever happened to the days when you got home on time and actually said hello for a change?"

"There's no need to be like that," she told him a haughty tone in her voice. "I was delayed, that's all. One of our translators is missing and it meant we are behind and… and Rick you _have_ to see what I've found. You _have_ to."

Her husband sighed, but she ignored him and set about unpacking the things she had brought back with her onto the coffee table in front of him and grabbing certain books from the book cases in the lounge. The last thing she took out was the scroll itself and the dark look that crossed his face was difficult to ignore.

"I was translating this scroll," she told him, resolutely trying to ignore it none the less, "And it… it's just terrible. Rick it speaks of that Mirror – the Mirror of Nephthys – that we encountered last time we were in Egypt… and of a winged cloak, and the Sistrum of Isis and--"

"Evy," he interrupted, sounding as though he was trying to be patient. "The mirror was destroyed."

"Yes," she continued undeterred, "I thought that too, at first, but this scroll talks about there being one that will find a scroll that's part of the Book of the Living that was left _out_ of the book because it was too dangerous even for the most devout of priests because it could… if I'm reading this right… it would open the door between the worlds and allow the Old Gods through into our world."

"Sounds just about what we need," he said, and for a moment she couldn't tell if he were being sarcastic or not, "might solve a few problems around here."

"Rick, you don't understand."

"Tell me something I _don't_ know," he muttered.

She paused for a heartbeat, hurt by his words more than she could express, but what she had found was simply too important for her to ignore. She had to get him to agree to her plan… she simply had to.

"If the Old Gods come through into our world, it says that they'll fight a terrible war between them with mankind as their pawns and servants and--"

"Let me guess," he paused, "they'll wipe out the world."

She sniffed indignantly, "You don't seem to be taking this very seriously."

"Evelyn, even _if_ it's true…"

"Do you doubt me now?"

"_If_ it's true," he went on, not giving an answer to that question, but sounding almost apologetic, "there's nothing we can do."

"But… but we have to," she began to fill with fear as Rick told her this, "we… we have to stop this from happening and… and we have to warn Ardeth and--"

At the mention of Ardeth's name, all of the apology drained out of her husband's voice and he spat angrily, "No!"

"Rick--"

"I said no!"

"But--" she almost squirmed in her seat.

"In case you've forgotten," Rick continued angrily, "Lover boy banished us from the Sahara on pain of death."

She winced as he said, 'lover boy,' and for a moment couldn't find the words to go on.

_He wrapped his arm around her waist and rolled over, so that he was over her, so that he could claim her as the power demanded, as the power flowing through _her_ wanted. His dark curls fell over her face, and he gave himself to her in the wake of the passionate emotion that consumed them both._

_She gasped and tightened her arms around him, tensed for all of a heartbeat, before she relaxed; before she pulled him again toward her. She moaned as he claimed her, joining with her in unmatched fiery passion. He possessed every inch of her body until they were dizzy with it – drunk on shared touch, and on the force that moved them both… powerless against the pulse of his life inside them._

"We talked about that," she whispered at last, hurt and sorrowful.

"That doesn't change the fact that it happened!" he stood and started pacing the lounge. "That he should have--"

"What, Rick?" she raised her voice and came to stand right in his path. "What should he have done? I hit him over the head. We were both caught in the evil power of the Goddess Nephthys. How can you blame him and not blame me?"

"I…"

"Or maybe you _do_ blame me, and just won't say."

"No," he protested softly, pained. "You weren't yourself, you--"

"Neither was Ardeth," she implored him to understand this one thing. "It wasn't us, and he probably doesn't even know."

"But we're left," he said, barely more than a whisper, "to pick up the pieces."

"_That's it, Mrs O'Connell, you're doing just fine… just fine…" the midwife's patronising voice was starting to irritate her. It wasn't as though she hadn't already got two fine children. "Few more good pushes and you'll have your baby in your arms."_

_A moment of dread passed over her. From the very beginning she had wondered… had feared… and now that the moment came… the moment she would finally know… Another urge came over her and she obeyed, pushing until a sharp pain travelled up from her centre._

"_Gently now," the midwife said, "We don't want you tearing… gentle pushes now… I think I can see the--"_

_The midwife stopped and Evy saw she looked between her and Rick, and for a moment Evy regretted the resolute insistence, against custom, that her husband be present for the birth._

"_What's wrong?" she asked tremulously._

"_Oh nothing," the Midwife gave her a smile that did not reach her eyes, "Everything's just fine. Few more pushes and you'll have your baby in your arms."_

_She pushed again, and felt a trickle of blood along her thigh a moment before the stretching pain that was the birth of her child's head. "Oh," she moaned, knowing she would have to rest a moment. Trying to breathe she raised her head a little and in the mirror that graced the front of the closet, she saw… the bloodied head of her child between her risen thighs… a dark head of curls._

"_Oh God, no!" her voice was afraid. She moaned in denial as the next of the pains came good and strong, and she birthed the child, a son… blood spread over the light linen beneath her._

"_Rick…" she called after him as he started to leave angrily. "Rick!"_

_His only answer was the slamming of the door._

"But we have," she told him softly, reaching out to take his hand. It came unresisting, but lifeless into her own. "We have rebuilt our love and the love we have for our family, for our children. All of them… even Sam."

"Have we?" he asked, and the uncertainty was clear in his voice. "Another man's son, Evelyn. And I know there were things going on that… that cloud that, but… don't you think he has a right to know? Doesn't Ardeth have a right to know that he has another son?"

She said nothing. She had battled with herself over and over again on that issue… but how _could_ she tell him. Send him a telegram? "Ardeth you have a son Stop. His name is Essam Stop. He was born because of Nephthys and Osiris Stop." She shook her head.

"What would he do?" she asked at last. "He doesn't know him… and Sam doesn't know Ardeth either. _You_, Rick, you are Sam's father. You raised him, cared for him, soothed his nightmares. Sam doesn't _know_ anything other than that."

"And yet you'd go running off to Egypt and put him in the way of all that you say he doesn't' know?" he argued. "Even if we _could_ go to Egypt… even _if_ we could somehow find a way to stop the Medjai from killing us on sight. It wouldn't be right for Sam."

Evy sighed. He had caught her with her own argument.

* * *

Ardeth turned his head against the pillow… haunted… always in times of stress… haunted by his own personal betrayal. 

"…should have known…" he murmured, tossing his head back the other way.

"_Ardeth," she called out to him, stepping out of the shadows._

In that split second she had stepped out of the shadows he had seen her as she truly was: Evelyn, lost and forlorn… looking as though she had been through seven hells and back. He had stepped forward, meaning to catch her when she swayed, but her movement had awoken the bells that hung around her neck… bells…

_As she moved her hand found the stone cover from the statue of Isis and she swung it hard toward his head where it connected with a sickening crack._

_He felt detached from everything, his head ached and he could feel blood running from the gash on his head. When he opened his eyes, his vision blurred, darkened and then returned more blurred than ever. Someone moved nearby, and he tried to get his tongue to form the words to ask for help._

"_Hush, my heart… you are hurt… let me help you…"_

_The voice was soft, calming… but there was something wrong… something not quite right. He couldn't place it._

"…should have known…" he repeated into the coming dawn.

"_Where… where am I?" he managed to barely whisper._

"_Safe… Safe and loved."_

_The voice resonated with a power that should not have been._

"_Meiri…?"_

"_Are you tired, my love?"_

"…it was the power…" he tossed his head again, tormented in the memory that played out for him. "I should have known…"

_The touch of a hand ran down his chest. His robes were unfastened and he could not feel the weight of his protective amulets against his skin._

"_What…?" He tried to reach and grasp her hand, unsure… unsure and feeling as though darkness was creeping over him. "Meiri…?"_

"_You were hurt…"_

"_I remember," he whispered, "my head…"_

_He reached up to try and touch the gash that still felt untended to him, but a hand caught his, and drew his fingers into the warm wet softness of a mouth. He moaned quietly._

"…should have fought… been a better man…"

"_My love… my heart… you know, you understand…"_

_She moved closer and straddled him, leaned down and breathed hot kisses against his neck. She pressed herself against him whispering words of passion, words of power to awaken him to life… words of an ancient power… of an ancient and forbidden love._

_He gasped, feeling the intensity of it rising in him. He felt as though he was drowning, fighting to breathe, fighting against the strength gathering in his limbs… drowning until he moved his hand, lifting his fingers to bury them in her long hair and guide those torturous kisses toward his lips._

"…she was my friend… my friend…" he moaned and clutched at the blankets by his hand… trembling at the terrible nightmarish memory that mocked him as surely as Mohammed now did.

_She teased him, moving away, resisting his kisses and keeping the heat of her waters away from the need she had kindled in him._

_He wrapped his arm around her waist and rolled over, so that he was over her, so that he could claim her as the power demanded, as he knew she wanted. His dark curls fell over her face, and he gave himself to her in the wake of the passionate emotion that consumed him._

_A gasp and the arms around him became tense for all of a heartbeat, before they relaxed, before they pulled him again toward her and she moaned as he claimed her, joining with her in unmatched fiery passion. He possessed every inch of her body until they were dizzy with it – drunk on shared touch, and on the force that moved them both… powerless against the pulse of his life inside them._

"_Osiris!"_

He gasped sharply and sat up as he jerked awake.

"Evelyn… Meiri…" he was breathless as he gave their names into the cool dawn that seeped through him and drew him more and more awake. "How could I?"

"_Even if you had known you would have been powerless to stop it."_

Meiri's words echoed through his waking memory. He had confessed to her as soon as he had unravelled the confused memory for himself, but she had already known; seen in that prescient way she had. She had seen and had not held him to account for his betrayal of vows they had never taken.

"_So you must find a way to forgive yourself, for I no more condemn you or Evelyn as I do Ashna for the role she must play in your life."_

Ashna…

He sighed. Even after the ten days it had taken for the Commanders of the Twelve Tribes to assemble at Al-Kharga she was showing barely any signs of improvement. At her insistence he had said nothing to Sulayman about his niece's ordeal at the hands of the Elder.

Ayesha had been to attend to Ashna every day and had assured him that, while she was little better, she was no worse, so at least he had that hope. But the sight of her struggling with the physical and emotional after-effects of the attack that had all but killed her, and had taken the life of the unborn child she had carried, albeit briefly…

He sighed again.

"First Medjai?"

The call came from outside of the dwelling. Quickly he rose and dressed himself. Knowing that whoever was waiting would wait patiently, given the hour, and then went out to admit the messenger to his home.

"Bahir," he greeted his warrior as warmly as he could.

"The Commanders are all arrived, Sayiidi," Bahir told him. "The Commander of Ninth Tribe arrived some little while ago and is anxious to begin the proceedings. The Elders wish to begin one hour after Morning Prayer."

He nodded and thanked the man only to have the warrior grip his arm tightly.

"Ardeth," he began. "Every single one of your Chosen will stand at your side should you wish to simply remove the Elder from his position and have him--"

Sighing, he shook his head, cutting off the warrior's words. He would like nothing more than to carve Mohammed into pieces for what he had done, now and in the past, but Meiri had stayed his arm.

Time and again she had told him that this fiasco of a trial must take place and that if it did, Mohammed would be discredited far more completely than Ardeth could do alone. He had tried over the course of the last few days to get her to tell him what she had meant, but she would only shake her head.

"_Let the Commanders see what the chief supporter of their individual power plays is truly like, and even Ninth Tribe will cease to be trouble for you, my heart."_

"The trial must go ahead, Bahir," he told his warrior, trusting in her words. She had so rarely been wrong that he could do nothing other than trust her. Bahir gave him a curt bow and then turned to leave.

"You think I am mistaken?" he asked his warrior's back.

"We worry that Mohammed may have other things up his sleeves than already we know about." Bahir answered.

"We must trust that the truth will prevail," Ardeth insisted. "If the Medjai do not have the truth, then we have nothing."

"Aiwa, Sayiidi," Bahir turned and gave him a smile then. "You are right. Forgive my irritation."

"Nothing to forgive," Ardeth assured him. Then he turned to go and dress himself in his formal robes.

* * *

Jaranas walked through the many men, disguised as desert traders who had made camp in the shadow of the rocks that the Elder of the Medjai had led them to find. He was impatient. There were things he wanted to do; places he needed to be and waiting around here was not one of them. 

He had watched the other groups of Medjai riding in. Eleven bands of thirteen warriors they were, that came from differing directions, out of the sands themselves. From what the Elder had told him, these must be the Commanders of the other tribes of the Medjai and their chosen bodyguards.

He snorted. What warrior needed twelve men to guard him? Perhaps these Medjai were not as fearsome as the desert legends named them to be.

He looked over at his assistant. Salak was a wiry little man with cruel eyes and even crueller hands. But it was his mind that drew Jaranas to him. Salak knew more about the Ancient desert than any other man he had ever known, so even though his fee was high, and often turned Jaranas stomach if he came upon his assistant unawares when Salak was entertaining in the privacy of his tent, Jaranas was more than happy to pay the man his price.

"The other bands are in position," Salak told him, even honouring him with a slight bow. "We merely await the traitor's word."

* * *

Ashna pushed gently at Ayesha's hands as the healer fussed around her, then took them in her own. 

"Cousin, if you do not trust that I will be well, then come with me," she said.

"I cannot," Ayesha told her. "Rihana has work for me at the Hall and she will be angry if I do not return there."

"Not if Ardeth explain--"

Ayesha cut her off with a shake of her head. "You should still be resting, Ashna, that is all. And this will be a stressful thing, to go to the trial."

"No more so than caring for the twins and for A'ini," she countered.

"Ghayda has already said that she will help you with the children," Ayesha reminded her, though she did not need reminding. Ashna shook her head.

"I know," she said, "But if I do not appear at Ardeth's side at the trial, my uncle will be suspicious. I know what he is like, Ayesha."

Ayesha sighed. "Then be sure that you remain sitting as much as you can… and the children must still go to Ghayda."

Again Ashna shook her head. "Ghayda will be at the trial also, in support of Rashid."

"But she can still mind the children, especially with Aria helping."

Ashna sighed, she could see that Ayesha would not be swayed, and even though she wanted to appear united with Ardeth and their children with them, to maintain the illusion to the Commanders that there was nothing wrong, she knew that the healer was right.

Even dressing had tired her beyond what she had thought it would. She hated that she tired so easily; that she had not healed as she should.

She also hated the fear that knotted in her belly at the thought of seeing Elder Mohammed again. She did not think he would try to say anything that would cause her trouble. She did not think he would try again and accuse her of assault as Ardeth had said he had when Nazir had accused him of murdering her unborn child…

She sighed and her hand went to her empty belly. After the birth of the twins, when the healers had told her that she should not attempt to conceive again, she had felt strangely mixed emotions. Sadness that she would not be able to have the large family she had dreamed she would when she was a child…

A slight snort escaped her at that thought. Another childhood fantasy turned to nothing but dust. She shook her head at Ayesha who was looking at her quizzically.

There had been sadness, yes, but also relief. If it meant that Ardeth would come less often to her bed to help her avoid a dangerous conception, then it brought her a measure of relief.

Then Elder Fahad had reminded her of her duty to the Twelve Tribes and once more, the thought of a larger family had entered her head. And once she was sure that the sickness and tiredness, the same as when she had first known she carried the twins, meant that she was breeding again, she had been both hopeful and terrified. What if the healers had been right?

She sighed and once more passed a hand over her empty belly. Now that she would not have what she had wanted to give – to Ardeth and to the tribes – a heavy sadness had begun to drip over her heart. She felt less a woman, less a wife… just… less.

"Ashna," Ayesha said gently, and when she looked at the healer she saw her eyes were on the hand that still rested on her belly, "I truly am sorry at everything that has happened with you. If I thought there was a way to watch over you, to be sure that you would not sicken as you did with the twins, I would watch you so that you might try to have another child of your own… but it is simply too dangerous, Cousin. Hard as it may be, sometimes a healer's first responsibility is to the mother and not to the child that has not yet been brought into Allah's world."

"I know," Ashna whispered, and in spite of the knowledge, tears still came to her eyes. "I know you are right, Ayesha, but…"

She sighed and looked at the other woman.

"Have you never, for a moment, wanted to be a mother?" she asked Ayesha.

Ayesha looked down; shielding her eyes from Ashna's gaze and shook her head. Ashna knew then that she had, in spite of all she said.

"It is not possible now," Ayesha told her. "I am sworn a healer, and will take no man as husband. Not that any man would ever take me as wife. I am cursed… you know that… for what I did."

"You did nothing but stand up for yourself," Ashna told her, suddenly angry. "And those Tuareg would have attacked whether you had gone to them as a peace-bride or not."

"We will never know," Ayesha shook her head. "But I _do_ know that because of it, I am reviled. So truly a healer's life is better for me. Easier…"

"Easy isn't always right," Ashna said softly.

"And nor is right ever easy," Ayesha countered pointedly. "But know that you have love and support to get you through it, Ashna."

Ashna sighed and nodded. "All right," she said softly, and afterward she accepted the other woman's help.

* * *

In spite of the bravery she tried to muster for herself, Meiri trembled when they came for her, to bring her to the Ceremonial Square outside the Council Hall where the trial would take place… in public. 

Of course Mohammed would ensure that it was done in public as he tried to discredit her to as many people as he could. So much depended on this trial… and there were so many area's of darkness that she could not see… all because of the trial.

Still, she put on a brave face and even smiled when she saw Ardeth and Ashna side by side with Ghayda and Aria with all the children around them. She tried not to take a measure of the number of people that had assembled around the square.

_They should have been gathered for a happier occasion._

The bitter thought caught her off guard and she stumbled a little. Nazir caught her arm and gave her a concerned look. She smiled softly and shook her head.

"I'm all right," she told him.

"Have faith in Allah, Meirionnydd," he said, "For He knows the right of this."

She nodded and finally allowed him to bring her to her place. She was brought to a seat beside Rashid, who also stood accused. The look on his face was one of determined resignation… if such an expression were possible.

She sighed. She had known all along what he would do to end this charade, and at his words the travesty of a trial would be over, but another more far reaching matter would be on display for all to hear.

"I am sorry, Rashid," she told him.

He shook his head, "It is past time," he answered.

* * *

One by one the officials of the Twelve Tribes, and the appointed 'neutral' judge prepared to take their place. Ardeth watched each of them carefully, trying to get the measure of the men and gauge how they might react to the accusations. 

"I am Rhamun Siyhad – I am the Chief of Al-Dhakla. I have been asked to sit as neutral judge in this matter and am honoured to assist the Medjai in this way." The man was neither young, nor elderly, but on the border between the two. Much the same age as Mohammed himself, and – Ardeth was sure – somehow beholden to the man. If the vote was tied at the end of the trial, this man would have the casting vote, and Ardeth knew what that vote would be.

"I am Nazir Al-Dabir," Nazir stepped forward to take the place of the Commander of First tribe. Since Ardeth was the wronged party, he could not be called upon to sit in judgement, and since Rashid was one of the accused, even though he was Second of First tribe, he could not either. It fell then to Nazir. As Horse Master his rank was third among the Tribes. "As Master of Horse, I claim authority and speak for First Tribe."

Nazir was also among the Chosen; Ardeth's man, and so he had little doubt what vote Nazir would cast. He caught the flash of the man's grey eyes, filled with barely contained fury that he carried through the whole of his muscular frame. It was easy to see that his clean shaven jaw was set into a tense and angry pout.

Ardeth knew that Nazir understood the needless prejudice that the tribes showed to outsiders like Meiri because his own mother had suffered the same. His mother was of one of the many Bedouin tribes of the South-eastern SaHra. Nazir's father had courted her for many months before persuading her father to allow him to wed with her – and she had come with a fine dowry of many magnificent Arabian horses. But even with such riches she brought to the Tribes, the people of First hated her for who she had been. A ragged wanderer, they had called her, unfit for life among the Twelve Tribes.

Kareem had refused to listen to them, and when Nazir had shown such aptitude with horses, he – and then Ardeth after him – had appointed him Horse Master. Ardeth was glad to name Nazir among his friends.

"I am Izz al Din, Commander of Second Tribe." The first of the Commanders proper moved to take his place. He was older than most of the others and but for the fact that he was Commander would probably have been names among the Elders of his tribe. His greying beard was trimmed neatly and his longer hair was clasped in a leather thong behind his shoulders. Ardeth knew that he was usually a considered warrior, but also conservative in his views. He would likely not cast a favourable vote, even though he usually supported Ardeth's rule. "I speak for the families of Second."

"I am Qutb," A younger Commander moved to take his place among the Council. He had recently succeeded his father, who had lost his life battling with a Tuareg band nearby to their home. His youth showed on his face and Ardeth suspected that he was still battling to find his place among the others. His vote would likely follow the majority lead. The young Commander continued, "I command Third Tribe, for whom I speak."

Ardeth sighed, knowing he could not count on the Commander of Third for support. He turned to watch as the next Commander took his place at the table that would slowly fill with his peers.

The Commander of Fourth Tribe was a man of slight stature, but, Ardeth knew, great strength and intelligence. He did not allow tradition to blind him, but weighed each thing on merits of its own. He was also not led by superstition as were many. Here was a hope for a good vote.

"I am Bishr, Commander of Fourth Tribe. I speak for my families."

"I am Athil, I command Fifth Tribe and speak for my warriors and their families," Athil glanced at Ardeth as he took his place. He had been most vocal in condemning Mohammed's involvement in the accusations against Rida those seven… Ardeth blinked… closer to eight years ago. He met the warmth in his Commander's eyes, and nodded slightly. Athil would not vote against Meiri and Rashid without compelling evidence.

"I am Rakin," The Commander of Sixth Tribe strode with authority to his place at the table. Here was a man that brooked no nonsense and held traditional values as paramount. As he sat he threw a contemptuous look in Meiri's direction and what could have been an expression of sympathy to Rashid.

Ardeth bristled. The man was arrogant; had always been arrogant and the confidence this lent him made many people listen to his opinion and follow his lead. It was not a good sign that he had clearly made up his mind before the evidence had been presented.

"I am Commander of Sixth Tribe and I speak for all of the warriors and the families in my charge."

"I am Mus'ab, Commander of Seventh Tribe," The tallest of the Commanders moved to take his place. He had been a childhood friend of Ardeth's father, Kareem. His eyes moved over Meiri and Rashid, showing little of what he might be thinking. Before taking his seat, he bowed his head to the judge and other assembled Commanders, and then turned to do so to Ardeth. "I speak for The Seventh."

Ardeth returned the nod of respect.

"I am Dhakir," the next Commander to take his place gave off an air of confidence that was not the arrogance displayed by Rakin. His dark hair was swept over the opposite shoulder to the bandolier he wore and shone like the wing of some great desert raven. His eyes, though firm and uncompromising, held the promise of a gentle sympathy that was the mark of a good leader. He reminded Ardeth of his father, though that did not necessarily mean that the vote of this man would side with Meiri. "I am Commander of Eighth Tribe. I speak for all the families in my care."

"I am Tamim, Commander of Ninth Tribe," the oft troublesome Commander of Ninth Tribe moved to take his place among the others. Ardeth regarded his lined face carefully, hoping for some clue as to the how the man felt and might vote in this matter. But for the fact that he had supported O'Connell when he had sent him to Ninth Tribe for help against the Cult of Nephthys, Ardeth might have expected the Commander to vote contrary just to spite his wishes. Now though he simply wasn't sure.

"I am Commander of Tenth Tribe," a deep voice captured the attention of the assembled Medjai as the Commander of Tenth Tribe moved to take his place. He was as broad as he was tall, and his large hands rested easily on the hilts of his weapons. He was the very definition of the word 'warrior.' Ardeth was not as confident in his ability as a Commander, however. His judgement tended toward fickle as he allowed his mood to dictate his actions, but only outside of battle. In battle his judgement was flawless and Ardeth hoped that he would use some of that battle judgement in this matter. "I am Fawzan and I speak for the warriors of Tenth Tribe."

_But not for their families… _Ardeth was not encouraged by the man's words.

"I am Yusri, Commander of Eleventh Tribe, and I speak for all of my people." The man that took his place as he spoke was around the same age as Ardeth. He seemed to remember the man had been the most supportive of his Commanders over the matter of the O'Connells and their exile. They had shared more than a few words together on that day, and Ardeth hoped that the man's opinion of him had not changed; that he could count on Yusri to vote for what was right and just.

The last of the Commanders moved to his place without a word, and sat for a time as if scrutinising Meiri and next Rashid. Then he bowed to all assembled and said quietly, "I am Sulayman. I command Twelfth Tribe, and speak for all of the families in my care and those dear to me."

Ardeth cursed silently, and felt Ashna reach to take his hand and squeeze it. He looked over at her and gave her as much of a smile as he could. He could see in her eyes that she shared his doubt of a fair vote from her uncle. He had hoped that family loyalty would have him side with them, but evidently he had been mistaken. For more than a few moments he regretted not saying anything to Sulayman about what had happened to his niece.

"All are assembled, First Medjai." The judge's voice broke in on his worry.

"Proceed," he instructed, glancing at Meiri in what he hoped was a supportive kind of way.

"Let the accuser stand forth and speak the charges," Rhamun Siyhad gestured to Mohammed and the Elder stepped forward.

"I am Mohammed, Elder of First Tribe and so the Medjai. I accuse the woman before you of impropriety. The man at her side is not the man known to her as husband and yet, on several occasions, in public, she has walked with him in contact and unveiled. This has been witnessed by others who can be called to give testimony before this Council." He held up a hand when others among the gathered crowd of Medjai began to mutter.

Some of them murmured words of support for Mohammed, and Ardeth thought he heard the words, 'witch' and, 'whore' more than a few times. Yet among the crowd, and surprising Ardeth, among the women in the crowd, he heard words of support.

"…suffered enough all those years they made her stay away from the man she loved…"

"…done nothing wrong…"

"…nothing that we haven't all done from time to time…"

He could not help but smile a little, warmed by the words he heard. He looked around again, this time at the warriors, but it was harder to read their thoughts in the expressions on their faces.

"Worse still," Mohammed continued when the crowd had fallen to silence again, "there have been several _more_ occasions where that woman before you has been _alone_ in the company of the man at her side… and I put it to this Council that it is common known that the Usertim Bitches – and such she is, I can prove to you, for she wears their mark – are _known_ for the seduction of warriors in such situations."

Ardeth stiffened, and would have risen had not both Ashna and Ghayda at his other side grasped his arms to prevent it.

"Let him speak his filth and poison," Ghayda hissed to Ardeth, "Let him tell them of the superstitions and half known tales of our Ancient Past. He will only look all the more foolish when the truth is out."

Ardeth looked at her and wished that he could share her faith, and Meiri's faith that the Commanders would simply accept the truth when the words of it were spoken. What gave them such faith? Was there some fact, some piece of knowledge that he was missing?

"Before Sekhemkare's decree against the fraternisation of the Medjai and the Usertim, it was common practise for them to get daughters of the Medjai warriors. It was their way of increasing their numbers," Mohammed continued, "It was why, after that decree, they all but died out.

It is therefore likely," he continued in a soft and almost persuasive voice, "that she has somehow coerced the warrior you see before you into an adulterous relationship with her. That she uses him for her own pleasure in spite of having so ensnared our First Medjai with her wiles."

It was very clever. Ardeth sighed. The words Mohammed used were emotive and played on the ancient beliefs and superstitions held by many of the Medjai. It would appeal to those in First Tribe who had suffered the troubled times they had encountered just after he had been returned to them by the power of Isis, wielded in Meiri's hand. It would appeal to those who blamed her; those who _still_ blamed her for all of those troubles.

Mohammed had fallen silent now and was merely looking around at those in the crowd and at the Council of Commanders that would sit in judgement over Meiri.

"Mohammed," it was Dhakir's voice that broke the silent, "Honoured Elder, your antipathy toward this woman is well known. You say that you can provide the testimony of others that she has broken with the social mores of distance and veiling before men not of ones own family, but only speculate what might have passed between this woman and the Honoured Second of the Medjai when they were in private. An unwise lapse, I will admit, but not necessarily an indication of any law having been transgressed."

"Has she bewitched you too, Commander Dhakir?" Mohammed asked quietly. "What are we to do if our Commanders cannot be called upon to give impartial judgement in such matters as these? Must we turn to neutral parties?"

Mohammed waved his hand toward the Tribal Chief from al-Dhakla and the man nodded his head in respect for the Elder.

"As you have done once before, Elder Mohammed," said Commander Athil darkly. "To the great detriment of all Twelve Tribes of the Medjai as well as to the man that stands accused along side the woman. Do you honestly believe that after such a judgement over his own erring wife, our Honoured Second would lapse in such a way?"

"Lapse?" Mohammed almost laughed the word. "Lapse? It is clear to all of us that Rashid Khalifah is capable of such a deed, the proof is sitting there before you."

He pointed at Aria, and before she could finish standing, rising to flee no doubt, Ghayda reached out and caught her arm. "No… Aria, do not let him bait you."

"Perhaps then," Mohammed continued, "Rashid's involvement in all of this is not quite as unwitting as I first believed. Perhaps he is happily in collusion with the woman."

For a moment Ardeth saw Mohammed and Rashid's eyes lock together. He saw the challenge in Mohammed's eyes and the hard but patient anger in Rashid's. Was there something that Rashid knew – some dark secret in Mohammed's past – which he would reveal now to discredit Mohammed? Would Rashid somehow use this moment for revenge?

Ardeth glanced at Ghayda. Perhaps this was why she was so confident that the trial was no true threat to Meiri. Quickly he turned his attention back to the proceedings.

* * *

Rashid sighed softly as he listened to Mohammed's words that were winding a blacker and blacker picture around the sensibilities of the Medjai Commanders. He would have to choose his moment with care, but he also knew that he could not wait too long. 

"Perhaps then," Mohammed continued, "Rashid's involvement in all of this is not quite as unwitting as I first believed. Perhaps he is happily in collusion with the woman."

Mohammed turned to face Rashid them and met his eyes. Rashid saw amusement there in the eyes of the Elder but also challenge… the return of a challenge Rashid had given him three years before.

"_Do you think," Rashid advanced on the older man, pushing him, step by step, back toward the doorway without ever laying a finger on him, "that I would not expose your scheming blackmail for what it is? And do not think to try me, Mohammed. The time is coming when the little empire you attempt to build for yourself will turn against you, and may Allah have mercy on you then."_

_He narrowed his eyes as they exited the tent and the morning sunlight hit them full on._

"_Empty threats, Rashid Khalifah, or should that be--"_

"_Do not," Rashid pressed the tip on his finger into Mohammed's chest, "push me, lest you find out just how much like my father I truly am."_

"_Your father…"_

"_My father," he raised his voice, speaking over the Elder, "was Kareem Bay's most trusted and loyal warrior, as was my mother loyal to Hanif and you…"_

His eyes hardened as the memory of all the facts opened to him, and his resolve was fuelled, not only by the way Mohammed had encourage the Medjai to serve Meiri, who was as loyal and faithful to them all as they were to Allah and the Old Gods, but also by the very painful memory of all that Mohammed's scheming had done to him personally through the years.

Without another word, Rashid stepped forward.

"Honoured Commanders, I would like to speak," he said softly without taking his eyes from Mohammed's gaze for even a second.

"By all means, Honoured Second Rashid," the judge nodded and Rashid suspected that he had cut off what would have been a protest from Mohammed.

_So you haven't told you little puppet everything… _He thought.

"Revered Judge," he began, suspecting that some flattery of the little weasel would not hurt matters, "Honoured Commanders, my fellow warriors…"

* * *

Meiri swallowed hard as Rashid stepped forward. She had known the time was coming and she knew it must be now, but as they came to it she could not help the fear that knotted in her belly. 

How would they react? How would Ardeth react and would he understand why it had been kept from him for all these years?

Silently she whispered a prayer to all the gods that were listening that this would not be the cause of more trouble among the Medjai.

"I wish to first offer to all of you the apology of one that has," Rashid paused for just a breath and then continued, "knowingly wasted your time. He will offer you no apology, so do not expect it from him.

Secondly, before Allah, and before you all, I must lay out a confession that makes all this," he waved his hand around the area where the trial had been convened, and speaking in slow, measured tones he finished, "completely and totally irrelevant… pointless and immaterial."

He half turned and offered his hand to Meiri, who with only a moment of hesitation, slipped her cold, trembling fingers into the warmth of his palm.

"You see!" Mohammed, as Rashid had hoped he would, leaped on the clear display of blatant familiarity. The fool must truly believe that Rashid would not dare to reveal the secret he had carried these thirty years. "There… right in front of everyone… shameless…"

He waited until the uncomfortable murmuring had once more died away before he began to speak again in the same measured tone.

"Meirionnydd cannot be guilty of impropriety with me because," he took a breath, "I am her husband's brother."

He left a moment for the full implications of those words to sink in to the assembled Medjai, and saw, with a pang of regret, that Sulayman glanced toward Ashna. It was against Medjai law for a relative of either bride or groom to sign as witness to a marriage and Rashid had signed at Ashna's wedding to Ardeth. He sighed. There was nothing he could do about that for the moment. He had set himself on a path that he had to continue.

Moving his eyes once more to lock with Mohammed's in an uncompromising stare, Rashid silenced the assembled crowd with a raised hand and into the silence confessed, "Kareem Bay was my father."


	6. Love My Wife

Star of the Morning Chapter 6 

Ardeth staggered almost as though someone had struck a blow against him. Almost thirty years and not a word… He raised his eyes to meet those of his Second, his _brother_. There was nothing in Rashid's eyes to show that it was anything more than the utter and terrible truth; nothing except for deep apologetic regret…

"L-lies!" Mohammed spluttered, turning in the direction of the commanders, "He says this only to save himself and the Usertim Witch."

His voice broke the delicate balance between Ardeth and Rashid, and both of them turned in the direction of the Elder. Ardeth could clearly see that, although shaken by the revelation, Mohammed was not in the slightest bit surprised. He too had known...?

"I am inclined to believe not," Izn al Din said quietly, and when Ardeth turned to him, meaning to search the man's expression to see if the knowledge of his father's infidelity was common among his people he saw only patient worry. No… confined then to Rashid and… who else among the Elders?

"Let him speak his tale, so that we may know it," Siyhad said. As neutral judge his word was to be obeyed in the matter of the hearing.

Ardeth sighed and fought back the tears that came to his eyes. This should be a private matter… a matter between family, not the whole of the Medjai together. In the moment he opened his mouth to protest Ghayda slipped her hand into his.

"You cannot, Ardeth," she said and the regret was heavy in her voice, "If you speak to prevent it then Rashid may as well not have spoken. I know it is hard for you to hear at any time, let alone after all this time, but if our people are to see what a scheming viper they nurse at their breast then we must allow this."

"But…" He began, but stopped and let out another sigh. Perhaps in the time it would take in the telling he would find some way in his heart to forgive that Rashid had lied to him all these years… to find a peace with the terrible news of his father's transgression.

He had no illusions of his father's monogamy. He knew otherwise. The elders, as they had with him, had coerced his father into taking a second wife to give him more sons. She had not, and further-more proved to be such a difficult woman that his father had not loved her, barely tolerated her company and, when Lalayla – his mother – had died and had been grieved, Kareem had taken Rachel as his lover. His father refused to call her concubine, for she had come to him willingly, abandoning her missionary work, converting to Islam and joining their family. She had been a gentle and welcome relief from Ume-Diz'n, whom Ardeth remembered even now with distaste. So monogamous his father had not been, but he was always faithful… or so he had believed.

* * *

Rashid nodded his obedience and allowed Meiri to sit on a stool that Nazir insisted be brought for her, before he began.

"Hanif Khalifah and Kareem Bay – Allah rest their souls," he said, and his words were echoed by many among the gathered Medjai, "were friends since childhood; as true warrior brothers as has ever been seen among the Medjai. It was only natural then that, when Ardeth's father asked for volunteers to go with him to bring his new wife back to First Tribe from her desert home, in spite of the danger, Hanif volunteered…"

"_I cannot ask you to do this, my friend." Kareem put a hand onto Hanif's shoulder as his best friend saddled his horse ready for the journey, "Your wife needs you."_

_Hanif turned from the horse to fix Kareem with a level gaze. "Yennafer has insisted that I come with you, Kareem. She does not trust some of the others that ride with us, and would rather I were at your side, where I might do some good, than at hers, where I cannot."_

_He too shook his head, sadly. "It has been long enough, Hanif, that you can try again. Perhaps she sends you away because she is afraid, and tries to save you both from further heartache—"_

"_Enough, my friend, I am riding with you, and that is an end to it," Hanif said, "Yennafer does want you to go alone in the company of Mohammed and that is the _only_ reason she sends me away."_

_He chuckled as he saw the playful gleam in Hanif's eyes._

"_Have it your way then," Kareem said through the chuckle, "and I shall go and give my thanks to so thoughtful a woman as would send the man she loves into a danger far beyond any battle with Bedouin or Tuareg."_

_Hanif laughed. "She said to tell you to come and see her before we left. I believe she has some last minute advice to you on how you should treat your wife… not – from what I have heard – that you need such advice."_

_Kareem blushed a little, and Hanif's laughter increased almost to a roar._

"They were to ride to the town of el-Timara, far to the south of Seventh Tribe. The journey would take them through many hostile territories, including that of the slavers, the Karhan. It would have been a dangerous journey anyway, made more dangerous still by returning with the new First Lady. Kareem had tried to wait until the Karhan moved to their summertime hunting grounds, but word had reached Al-Kharga that Lalayla was with child from the yiHaDDar hayat and the Elders insisted she be brought to the Tribes at once…"

"_You know they seek to control you with this, Kareem," Yennafer said as he entered her dwelling, forgoing the usual greeting to take his hands and soothe them with scented water. "I worry for you."_

"_It is Hanif you should worry for, my friend," he told her._

"_I know Hanif can take care of himself," she said handing him the cloth so that he could dry his hands, "Please sit and take refreshments with me."_

_He nodded and came to sit at her hearth with the familiarity of two who had grown up almost as siblings. He took the small plate she handed him and smiled as he saw the two succulent looking date pastries that lay invitingly atop it._

_She chuckled._

"_You think I would let you take my husband into danger without I give you one last luxury?" she asked, and for just a moment he saw beyond the façade to the fragility of her emotions._

"_Yennafer—"_

"_You must have something to remind you to be kind to the fairer sex after all," she said, trying to interrupt._

"_If you wish for Hanif to remain at your side," he reached for her hand, "I would not deny you. You know that."_

_She sighed, "I know, Kareem."_

"_How _are_ you?" he asked, "really…"_

"_The healers have said that I am perfectly fine," she said, "I still grieve inside."_

"_Of course you grieve, Yenna," he squeezed her fingers, "It was to have been your child."_

_Yennafer cleared her throat and pulled her hand from his. "We are both still young. There is much time for Allah to grant us this blessing that we are so impatient to believe we deserve so soon,"_

_Kareem sighed, 'so soon' had been three years already…_

* * *

Mohammed shifted uneasily in his place. He worried. He did not know just how much of his complicity in the crimes that had occurred that winter Rashid knew. How much had Hanif told him?

_The elderly warrior moved away from the others and reached inside his robes for the parchment he had written before their departure. He had to move carefully now. If he were discovered then all of the careful plans he had laid after the death of his father would come to nothing and he still would not be rid of the Bays. Folding the parchment carefully and attaching it to the leg of his hawk, he brought the bird back to where the First Medjai waited._

"_I have the bird," he said. "He will be an excellent scout for us."_

_Kareem nodded. "Thank you, Mohammed."_

"_My duty, Sayiidi," he bowed and then moved to where he could send the bird skyward and into the treachery he had planned. The message would both warn the Karhan of their coming, and reveal to them the location of their nearby settlement, as he had promised in exchange for their help. With any luck, before the day was finished, he would be rid of Kareem Bay. Ridding himself of the Bay siblings would be much easier then… and if the desert bitch were taken by the Karhan then so much the better. None would be any the wiser and he would emerge as the saviour of the day in the month before he was recognised as Elder. Nothing could be more perfect. He could rule as regent until his son was of age and the Medjai would be his – would belong to his family at last… as they should have… so long ago._

* * *

"_Good," the weapon's master said and slapped him hard on the shoulder with his staff, "Very good, Sekhemkare. Truly do you live up to your name."_

_He made no move to let go of the other young man he held. Neither had his opponent in the wrestling match stopped struggling._

"_Sethsephotep, enough," the weapon's master commanded. "Quit your squirming and I will order Khem to release you."_

_He felt his young companion at arms still beneath him and at the second tap of the staff against his shoulder moved cautiously away from the older boy. He sat back on his heels with a sigh as Sepho scrambled backwards to first sit and then crouch in the dirt of the arena._

"_A good match," Ma'nakhtuf called from the sidelines. "I should not like to call it."_

_Khem gave a polite bow to his opponent as they both stood, and then held out his hand to the other young man._

"_You fought well," he said._

_Instead of taking his hand Sepho spat to the side of them both and turned to begin walking quickly toward the bathing house. His oiled body glistened with beads of sweat as he moved._

"_Sepho, wait!" Khem called after him. "What's wrong?"_

_Ma'nakhtuf caught his arm as he started to go after him. Competition between the three of them had been particularly fierce of late – uncomfortably so – since it was common knowledge that the First had died with no issue and therefore it would fall to Pharaoh to select from among his warriors the man that would take up the fallen mantle of First of the Medjai. It was an honour that no young man would lightly pass up, but Khem did not like the strife it caused among his friends and companions._

"_Let him go, Sekhemkare," Nakhtu said quietly, "let him be a sore loser if he must. It will become known to Pharaoh – strength to Him, Health to Him, may He live forever."_

"_To hell with what Seti comes to know," Khem snapped, then continued more quietly as Nakhtu hissed at him in warning of his disrespect. "Can't you see what this is doing to us?"_

"_I see only that it serves to reveal those among the Medjai who have no honour." Nakhtu answered._

"_Khenmetamun was his uncle," Khem gestured after the sullen Sethsephotep, "by rights the honour should belong to him as the eldest son of Khenmetamun's sister."_

"_The Pharaoh, may Amun thrice bless his infinite wisdom, has decreed otherwise."_

"_And you would not feel aggrieved at that, were you in Sepho's position?"_

"_I would obey Pharaoh." Nakhtu shrugged as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to say and do._

"_As would I and as I will," Khem agreed, "and so will Sepho, but we must also respect his feelings… if we are any kind of friend at all."_

"_Medjai…" a familiar voice had both of the young men turn and at once prostrate themselves on the packed earth of the arena as, preceded by twin boys bearing fans that filled the air with the spicy aroma of sandalwood, Pharaoh Seti stepped into their world._

_In the next breath they both sang their praises to their Lord against the dirt reciting all the prayers for his health and his blessed wellbeing as they were able to voice in the short time before Pharaoh cleared his throat for their silence._

"_Rise, Sekhemkare, and walk with Us."_

_Sekhemkare scrambled as gracefully as he could to his feet and smoothed his kilt about his legs as he took his place at the rear of the small party, behind Pharaoh, his youthful lover, the exotic beauty Anck-su-Namun, and the other girls that served her. One of them giggled silently behind her hand._

_Khem frowned, this one he knew. She was one of the Usertim Priestesses, or would be when she was fully sworn. Her name was Asru. She had caught his attention on more than one occasion and that such a thing could happen to him annoyed him greatly. Women were for others than him. He had his duty to see to. But still he found it hard to tear his eyes away from the smooth pale beauty of her face._

"_You are much in Our eye, Sekhemkare," Seti said softly and at once he snapped his attention to the back of his Pharaoh's head._

"_Pharaoh honours me," he said in reply._

"_It is time for Our choice to be known, my Medjai."_

_It took a few moments for what Pharaoh was really saying to sink through the fog that was in Sekhemkare's head. When it had, he could not speak for the shock of it._

"_Sire, I…" he stammered._

"_Do not refuse Us, Sekhemkare," Seti said, "for We would be much offended if you were to say Us nay."_

"_No, Sire, of course not. I am only… surprised," he said. "Surprised and much honoured."_

_Seti stopped walking and commanded, "Approach, my First Medjai."_

_Sekhemkare came from his place at the rear of the retinue to stand before Pharaoh, making sure to keep himself half bowed down so as to show no disrespect. From his raised eyes he watched as Seti removed one of the rings from his finger and handed it to the gold painted woman at his side._

"_Prostrate yourself no more, noble warrior," the woman purred, holding out the ring in his direction. "Pharaoh bestows upon you a great honour. Wear it well."_

_Obedient to the last Sekhemkare straightened and reached out his hand for her to press the ring onto his finger. He held his breath, careful not to let any part of her touch him, for he knew to do so was death – though temptress that she was, she tried._

_Seti nodded, as though pleased with his choice of man and then said, "Choose from among your companions one that will act as your Second. Choose you warriors, and choose them wisely, Khem."_

"_It shall be as you command, my Pharaoh." Sekhemkare bowed, knowing he had been dismissed and walked backwards several steps. Then he straightened up and hurried away._

* * *

"_They marked him that night," Mohammed said as one of the Karhan handed him a beaker of fermented goat's milk. "He chose Ma'nakhtuf as his Second and the two were invested the following day and so my noble ancestor was cheated of his heritage by a lowborn bastard son of a Usertim Witch."_

"_Your people place too much store in things of the past and ancient superstitions," the Karhan warrior said, taking a long pull at his drink. "The present… that is where wealth and glory lie."_

_Mohammed only shook his head and for a time they drank in silence until a moan from nearby reminded him of their unfinished business._

"_What will you do with them?" he asked._

_The Karhan warrior shrugged, "That will be for our Prince to decide. We will bring them back to him at our stronghold, he will either put them to work, sell them with the others or… not. It is said that his dungeon is large indeed."_

_Mohammed shook his head again. "You should kill them. You will never take them alive."_

"_We kill only in battle, never in cold blood."_

"_Then let me."_

"_You will not sully our name, old warrior," the Karhan said dangerously, his hand moving toward the dagger at his waist._

_Mohammed laughed, at the thought that their name could be any more sullied than it was already through the towns and villages of the great desert._

"_As you will," he said when he could at last speak, "but do not say I did not warn you. Choose whichever four of them you wish that still live, but I must return with some of the more gravely injured. None will believe that one of my age could survive so well against your warriors. Though your name is sullied, your reputation for fierceness is not."_

_This time is was the warrior's turn to laugh. After a while he asked, "What of your leader?"_

_Mohammed sighed, "By now he is well on the way to First Tribe with the woman at his side. He knows his _duty_. He will not have lingered in Seventh."_

"_All the better for us," the warrior nodded._

* * *

"The journey to the town where Lalayla came from was uneventful enough. The attack came as they were returning," Rashid continued his story, glancing toward Mohammed as he spoke. The look of angry hate was as clear in his face as it had ever been and he wondered why no one else ever saw it. "They were perhaps half a day's ride from Seventh Tribe. The Karhan swept down on them from a rocky rise nearby which they had no choice but to pass…"

"_Ambush!" Hanif cried out and wheeled his horse so that he might ride to meet the attack before it got close to them… close to the First Lady._

_Kareem handed the reins of Lalayla's horse to one of his nearby warriors._

"_Get her to safety!" he ordered, "Get her out of here. Take her to Seventh. Ride!"_

_Then he turned his own horse and thundered after the rest of the warriors riding to meet the attack. He could not let them get past, because if they did they would surely catch the warrior he had sent away with his wife and all would be lost._

_He drew both blades, relying on the skill of his riding and his horse's training to keep him in the saddle as he struck fiercely against the first of the Karhan he encountered. Metal against metal rang in his ears along with the angry rushing sound of his blood that stoked the furnace of his anger against these slavers. He would not allow them one ounce of mercy._

_Strike after strike met the blades of his opponents as he fought to give their blood to the sands of the desert until the cowardly dogs changed their attacks and he was forced to throw himself from the saddle to save his horse. He continued to battle on foot and twisting suddenly to the side, he caught the warrior he was fighting unprepared, slicing deeply into him._

_He pushed the man off his blade and left him where he fell. He did not have time to do anything else because two more warriors came at him, each wielding huge curved blades – heavier than his scimitars. It would likely take all of his time to parry such weapons. Still he tried… ducking under a wild incoming swing to score a deadly thrust against one before retreating to defend against the other._

_The air rang with the screams of men and metal alike. He fought his way to Hanif's side and for a time the friends fought shoulder to shoulder, defending each other where they could not defend themselves._

"_Lalayla?" Hanif shouted above the chaos._

"_Seventh," he answered._

"_You should go to her."_

"_When we are done here," he said and parried another blow from one of the warriors they fought._

"_You have a duty to your people," Hanif argued._

_Kareem caught a blow that would have taken Hanif in the shoulder, perhaps more dangerously in the neck, if he had not._

"_I have a duty to my friends first," he said, straining to free his blade that was locked with the Karhan warrior's._

"_No," Hanif said strongly, rolling around his friend's back to reach his other side and block an attack against Kareem's flank. "First Medjai, then friend. We have always known this was the way."_

"_Hanif…" he tried to argue with his friend, but two more warriors were coming on them. He had to free himself from wrestling with this one for control of his blade._

_He would ever afterward remember the next few moments and wake sweating from the nightmare memory of them until the day he died._

_

* * *

_

_Hanif swung his blade out wildly against the warrior he was fighting, taking him in the belly even as he called out a warning to Kareem. As the warning began to fade on his lips he once more rolled behind Kareem, blade extended to where, what he thought was one incoming warrior, turned into two as one Karhan stepped out from behind the other. Kareem's blade was still locked in struggle with his opponent's, a second coming in behind _him._ They were badly outnumbered… virtually four against one if his friend did not free his blade._

_Hanif swung his scimitar in an arc in front of him… but too slow. One of the heavy blades was already within his defensive reach and as he turned again, the warrior thrust and the blade bit deep into his body. He cried out, first in pain, and then, as his strength started to fail- in duty._

"_Medjai, hona!"_

* * *

"_Hanif!" Kareem cried out as though he were the one in pain as his friend began to fall. Abandoning his locked blade, and heedless of the four warriors surrounding him he turned and caught the best friend he had ever know before he hit the ground. He breathed his name again, trying his best to shield his friend with his body._

"_Go to her, Kareem… please…" Hanif gasped. "Take your horse and leave this place of death. You wife needs you."_

"_I will not leave you, my friend," Kareem growled._

"_You must…" Hanif coughed before continuing, "There is nothing you can do here. Do your duty, First Medjai. Look to your wife… your family… the safety of the Twelve Tribes."_

"_First Medjai…"_

_A touch on his shoulder underlined what Hanif was telling him as he looked up and saw the young Medjai standing there holding the bridle of his horse._

"_Go," Hanif whispered, barely conscious. "Go…"_

"Kareem knew that my father was right in what he was saying," he looked over at Ardeth as he spoke. "The First Medjai has always been caught between love and duty. It is their lot, I think. Kareem took his horse and rode to Seventh. Lalayla was there, and without waiting for daybreak he took her and an escort of warriors and returned to First Tribe. It was the next day that Mohammed returned with several badly injured warriors. He said that the others had fallen and had been given into the arms of the SaHra because there was no means to bring them home."

Rashid turned his gaze on Mohammed as he continued with the tale, coming to the crux of it now.

"My mother was devastated. She believed all of her future had gone, fallen with her husband. More than three days passed and she would not even take food. Lalayla took her into her own household to care for her. Even though she had not known Kareem for that long she knew him well enough to see that my mother was a friend that he cherished. Lalayla was a good woman and would not see harm to anyone else. If she could bring some small measure of comfort, whatever was in her power she would do.

"Unwittingly, though, she had played into Mohammed's hand, put all of the players exactly where he wanted them. All he had to do," Rashid paused again, and raised an eyebrow in Mohammed's direction, "was to add the final ingredients. A little Red Cohosh in the bottom of a water jug, and a well placed Hazhda seed or two hidden in the grain on slices of bread…"

"_Lalayla…? Are you well?" Yennafer got quickly to her feet as Kareem's wife came into the doorway, clutching to frame for support._

"_The baby…" Lalayla gasped. "There is something wrong."_

_Yennafer paled and rushed to bring the other woman to the cushions in front of the fire then ran to the door shouting for a healer. Perhaps if they came quickly enough there would be something they could do._

"_Try not to move," she told the young woman as she returned to her side. "Are you bleeding? Where is the pain? How long has this been going on?"_

_Lalayla did not answer except to moan and press her hand low against her belly and then the healers had arrived and surrounded her, easing Yennafer away with their presence. _

_Yennafer stood against the far side of the room, one hand on the wall, the other against her lips, staring at the knot of blue-clad women, locked in the memory of her own recent miscarriage._

"As my father and mother told the story," Rashid returned his gaze to that of the neutral judge, "She was still standing there well into the night when at last the healers told Kareem he had to leave his wife to rest. As the Medjai here know, Lalayla recovered and no harm came to the child, though many blamed that, and the swiftness with which she conceived again for the fact that she gave to Kareem only one son. But the event had left both Yennafer and Kareem… vulnerable to suggestion.

"There is an herb grows here at Al-Kharga – the Hazhda bush. It blooms with a beautiful purple flower, the leaves are tipped with red, and the seeds… the seeds of this bush have an almost hypnotic effect on any that eat them, or imbibe juices made from them. It is a medicine prized by our healers because it acts as an excellent anaesthetic, but in small doses… it can be used to manipulate the will of another… to make suggestions…

"Mohammed came to Kareem's house that night, ostensibly to enquire as to Lalayla's health, but also to bring food that his wife had prepared… a hearty meat stew, accompanied by grain covered bread… he insisted that Yennafer and Kareem should eat…"

"_It has been a long and traumatic day for both of you. I would be missing in my duties if I did not see to your wellbeing. Please, eat…"_

_Reluctantly at first, but with growing enthusiasm as hunger drove them both, Kareem and Yennafer began to eat._

"_I am happy to hear that the healers say the First Lady will be well," Mohammed made small talk, and stayed to sip water at Kareem's table. Hospitality demanded that they allow him such small courtesy, though Yennafer knew that Kareem wanted him there even less than she did._

_But the stew was very good, very warming and the bread… Yennafer's eyes began to close and a wave of a strange detached feeling swept over her. She wasn't tired… in fact far from it… she was hungry and wanted to finish the meal._

"_Yennafer…" a voice was whispering her name._

"_Yes?" she had to keep her voice quiet; she knew… somehow she knew she must not wake Kareem… not yet._

_Kareem…_

"_Beloved Kareem."_

_Yes…_

"_He is the one you have always wanted. He will give you what you have so long desired."_

"_I will … I will wait for him by the fire…" she whispered._

_

* * *

_

_Kareem would be a tougher mark. Even with the effects of the seed Mohammed knew that he must tread carefully with him._

"_Kareem, my friend…" he said quietly, using the voice that he had been practising for so long, that he had known would need to use. "Listen to me…"_

"_Hanif…" Kareem whispered, almost sobbing._

"_Oh my friend," Mohammed said, "I'm sorry I left you. Sorry I left my wife… so lonely… she is so lost."_

"_I will keep her safe, my friend, I promise," Kareem said._

"_Oh, I know, Kareem, that you have always loved her…"_

"_No…"_

"…_always wished that she had been your wife instead of mine."_

"_No… Hanif, it is not like that it—"_

"_Peace, my friend," Mohammed took a deep breath, now was the test, "It is… all right… I understand… and… and I…"_

"_Hanif?"_

"_No. I cannot ask it of you."_

"_Please, my friend," Kareem whispered, "You know that you can ask anything of me and if it is within my power—"_

"_No… not this. I cannot."_

"_Please, Hanif," he almost wept, "I would deny you nothing. Not now, not ever."_

"_Love her…" Mohammed whispered so low he barely heard the words himself._

_Kareem gasped._

"_Yes my friend," Mohammed continued, "I have always known that you have held yourself from love of her for my sake… but now I… I want to give her what _she_ has always desired… For me… please… love my wife."_

_Carefully he drew Kareem closer to the fire where he reached for Yennafer's hand and gave it into Kareem's._

"_Love…" he whispered, easing them closer to one another._

"_Kareem," Yennafer whispered._

"_Yennafer…" He raised a gentle hand to caress her cheek and she leaned into his touch._

_Mohammed smiled, wondering just how far he should let it go before sending someone to catch them together… when he turned back at the doorway they were kissing tenderly as Kareem lay Yennafer back against the cushions._

"Neither my father nor my mother ever knew why it was he did not send his witness to catch them both committing such an act," Rashid looked down, "but he did not. And my conception was the result of their…"

"Fornication!" roared Mohammed, trying what little he could to best salvage the situation.

"…love," insisted Rashid.

"You see what kind of family it is," Mohammed refused to stop attacking, "that would call such as act as he has described as 'love.' The desire must have been there for the suggestion to take hold. They—"

"Silence!" Siyhad commanded. "I think we have heard enough of your vileness, serpent."

"But—"

"You can prove what you say?" Siyhad asked Rashid.

"My father was buried with a full written confession of all that occurred between him, Kareem and my mother. It was taken down by the Imam who was with him when he was dying." Rashid confirmed, shocking the still spluttering Mohammed into silence at last.

"Then I believe this matter is settled," Siyhad looked to the commanders for confirmation and to a man they all gave their agreement. "Lady Bay, Rashid, you are both blameless. Go in peace."

* * *

Ardeth's hands ached from where he had them curled into fists at his side, his fingernails dug into his hands and his jaw was set so tightly that it hurt, but he refused to show the emotion that inundated him…

He was drowning in it. How could he have done such at thing at such a time? His father… as weak and faithless a man as that…?

And Hanif… what must he have felt on his return? Hanif had almost single-handedly been responsible for saving the women and children of Seventh tribe. He was a hero… only to return and find that his wife had been ravished by the man he trusted as his greatest friend… the man whose life he had saved?

He began to tremble almost uncontrollably… he had to get out of there. He could not stand another minute… could not stand to see Rashid's lying face that had thrust all of the betrayal and anguish under his skin at this worst of times.

"…you are both blameless. Go in peace." The neutral judge ended the trial and before anyone could move he yelled, part in anger, part in anguish.

"Horse!"

When one of the stable hands quickly hurried into the ceremonial square with Marhana he set off with as large a stride as he could without running for the animal.

"Ardeth," Rashid called out to him, but he ignored the man.

"Ardeth, please, wait—"

"Liar!" he yelled into Rashid's face, pushing him away as he reached for Marhana's bridle. "All these years…"

He could not go on, the dam inside him broke and tears came flooding from his eyes. As he threw himself into the saddle his body shook with sobs that broke against him in giant waves.

"Brother," Rashid tried one last time.

"Bastard!" Ardeth all but screamed the word and kicked Marhana into as fast a gallop he could, heading for the open desert.

* * *

"Bastard!"

The word tore into Rashid harder than any blade could have done, even if he understood Ardeth's pain. He had been eight years old when that pain had been his… now all he wanted was to be with the man that he knew he had just hurt beyond reckoning.

"Let him go," Meiri's soft hand landed on his arm. "The desert will calm him. She always does, and then he will see the truth of this."

Buckling under tears of his own, Rashid nodded, and as he sank to his knees, Ghayda was somehow there to guide his head against her breast and they both were surrounded by the warriors of the Chosen – standing as a human screen with their backs toward them.

* * *

"What of that one?" Salak asked nodding toward the lone rider that came thundering out into the desert from the heart of the Medjai settlement.

"Leave him," Jaranas said. "He is but one."

Salak nodded and once more scanned the settlement. The flash of fire climbing skyward sent a thrill of excitement through him. Now they would strike at the heart of their pain… the interference with his master's plans.

"Attack!" he yelled into the sky, and with an answering cry the troops he had gathered from all of those that had cause to hate the Medjai swept like locusts into the settlement of Al-Kharga.

* * *

"Raiders!" the look out managed to cry, before the warriors fell over him, cutting him to pieces in the process, but his cry had been heard, and a group of Medjai rushed toward where he had fallen, attempting to cut off the press of men that were streaming into their oasis home.

Al-Kharga was defensible thanks to the narrow channel that provided entry to her hallowed grounds, but against such numbers as were coming against them, some clambering over the rocky walls of the chasm itself, the frontline guards did not stand a chance to hold.

Hearing the cry of alarm, Rashid pulled himself away from Ghayda, wiping away the tears that still fell from his eyes as he told her, "Go… take the children… take Meiri and Ashna with you. You know what to do."

"Rashid…" she sounded afraid, and with good reason, he thought. Anyone that had come this far was either very lucky or they had help from someone among the Medjai. It was not hard to set one man chief among suspects above the others.

"Ghayda," he gave her a little shake even as his eyes almost instinctively sought out a safe path for her, "Go."

She did not hesitate again, simply picked up her skirts and ran in the direction of the children, Meiri and Ashna.

"Medjai Chosen, to me!" Rashid commanded, pushing aside his emotion for a later time, acting in defence of his home… his people. It was not long before he was in the heart of the battle as by sheer number alone, the enemy penetrated to the centre of the oasis.

* * *

"Healer!"

By reflex Ashna turned as the Medjai warrior cried for help for a fallen comrade. She had already taken a step in his direction when Ghayda grabbed her arm.

"Ashna, no," she said. "We must get you and the children to safety."

"That man needs help," she said and pulled her arm from Ghayda's grasp. "I may not be a healer, but I can help him until one arrives."

"No!" Ghayda grasped her arm again and tried to lead her away, "you are not well yourself and we have a way to go. Come with me before—"

Ashna screamed as a hail of bullets showered them both with dust and debris from the side of the straw-brick house.

"There is no more time," Ghayda's grip on her wrist tightened.

"Listen to Ghayda."

Ayesha's soft touch on her shoulder made her start, and the urgency in her voice grabbed her stomach and made her feel more nauseous than ever. She was about to reply when another volley stripped more of the hard straw and mud covering from the fabric frame of the house. A sharp fleck caught against her cheek, tearing her skin.

"Go," Ayesha urged again, pushing at her with hands stained deep red with the blood of Medjai already spilled in defence of their oasis home.

"But you—"

"I know where you are going," the healer said, "I will join you later,"

Ashna could tell from the look in her eyes that Ayesha doubted that to be true, but she did not have a chance to argue further. Glass shattered against the building and the searing heat of oil-fuelled fire burst over all of them.

"Go!" Ayesha pushed harder as Ghayda pulled and Ashna had no choice but to leave with her sister-in-law. The last she saw of Ayesha was as her cousin reached up to pull the blue veil from her hair and toss it aside as it caught on fire. The healer did not even pause to see to her own pain before throwing herself down to tend to the injured warrior.

Tears blinded her as they ran, and not all from the acrid smoke that was beginning to fill the wide streets as more and more buildings were put to the torch.

Each way she turned Medjai warriors were cut down, or shot down. The screams of dying men and women alike tore at her until she couldn't hold in the sobs any more and once again ripped herself free of Ghayda's confining grasp.

"I _have_ to help them, Ghayda, they're our _people_. There are women hurt, I—"

"All right," Ghayda pushed Meiri and Aria ahead of them. "Aria, take Meiri and the children to the caverns. We'll try to bring as many of the wounded as we can."

Aria nodded and took hold of Nabilah's hand running with Meiri towards where the trees were thickest, around the water itself.

* * *

"Get the horses out of there!" Nazir threw the words back over his shoulder at his stable hands, still fighting – his blades a rapid blur against his opponent's – to keep the horse yards free of the raiders. "Drive them to the water!"

He hissed in pain as a blow sliced along the top of his shoulder, but did not give the raider any cause to celebrate his good fortune. He redoubled his own attacks and pushed the invader further back. Slowly, step by step, he forced the man away from the Medjai's precious Arabian horses. Without the horses the Medjai would be crippled – unable to travel – unable to fulfil their oaths.

"Where are the warriors," he shouted to Rashid as he and several others of the Chosen arrived at the waterside. Unsworn warriors and barely grown boys were fighting along side this distinguished band.

"I do not know," Rashid called back. He strained to catch an overhead blow, "I fear—"

"Behind!" Nazir called a warning to Rashid as, with horror, he saw one of the raiders stand up as if from nowhere. He knew, of course, that the man had come out of the rushes by the water, but the illusion was startling.

He also knew that there was no hope that Rashid could parry the blow that even now the raider raised his arm to make. He was too committed to defending himself against the one that attacked him from the front.

As though some divine guidance descended over him Nazir struck out against the man with whom he was locked in battle himself and struck a blow against the man's knee. The raided cried out in pain and fell away to the side.

There was no time for Nazir to cross the distance between where he fought and where, if he did not act, Rashid would fall. Instead he reached behind his back and drew the long blade from its sheath.

For only a heartbeat he hefted the weapon in his hand and then tossed it up to take it by the curve of its blade. Then he drew back his arm and threw it with all his strength.

End over end, rolling around the crescent that formed its deadly edge the blade flew unerringly toward Rashid. As late as he dare Nazir called out a warning.

"Left!"

As he knew the warrior was trained Nazir saw Rashid drop his left foot back a step and half turn in that direction. Nazir's blade passed a mere hair's breadth beside Rashid's cheek and buried itself to the hilt in the raider's throat. He was dead before he drew another breath. Rashid used the stunned terror that froze his remaining opponent to dispatch him too, then turned to Nazir and gave him a grateful half bow.

Nazir nodded, but both men turned at the sound of a familiar high pitched cry from the other side of the oasis.

"I will stay with the 'prentice warriors and hold the raiders here," Nazir told Rashid urgently, "Go to them."

* * *

Not much further and they would be safe within the caverns. Meiri paused to make sure that the children were ahead of her, to make sure they reached safety first.

The rushes to the right moved and from the water two brutish Tuareg raiders rose like wraiths. One of them swung his weapon upwards as he stood up from the reeds.

A'ini screamed in pain and fell like a stone.

"A'ini!" Meiri's scream echoed her daughter's and she tried to go to the fallen toddler. Already she could see the blood that flowed from the gash in her child's side. Aria caught her around the waist and all but threw her down on the ground.

"Let me go!" She clawed at Aria's hands that held her down; fought with everything she was, but had no leverage against the taller, heavier woman.

"Suhayl!" Khalidah cried out for her brother and suddenly Aria's weight was gone from her.

"Suhayl, no!"

Aria's voice was shrill with panic and as Meiri scrambled to her knees she watched helplessly as her son threw himself toward the man that had hurt his sister. In his hand he held the small blade carried by all children of the Medjai.

"Suhayl!"

Meiri's heart-rending, drawn out scream gave a counterpoint to the lower growling cry of denial given by Rashid as he launched himself the last few steps toward the two raiders.

* * *

The shrill scream echoed through the oasis, high in pitch it easily reached his ears. Mohammed smiled and then carefully locked his blade with Jaranas' sword.

"It is done," he snarled.

Jaranas nodded. "Retreat!" he called off his men.

Mohammed returned the gesture with an imperceptible nod of his own and turned aside form Jaranas. He ran to the lookout point at the edge of the heights where he had ensured a good number of First Tribe's warriors were tied up with Jaranas and his second wave of raiders.

"No, wait!" he called as two of the chosen moved to give chase to the retreating band of aggressors.

"We must go after them," Tarek half turned to confront him, "give chase."

"Look down," Mohammed pushed Tarek toward the lookout. "There are still invaders below. Our people… our women and children need us _here._"

Mohammed waited a moment longer before he called the warriors of First to his command.

"Medjai, hona!" he called, "Let us show them just what it means to cross the Medjai of First."

* * *

The Tuareg raider easily knocked aside the blade that Suhayl wielded against him and caught the boy a blow to the side of his head. He scooped him up beneath one arm and began retreating toward a path – a hidden path known only to Medjai warriors of high rank – that led out of the oasis basin.

Rashid snarled angrily as he moved in pursuit, trying to pass the second raider to get to the one carrying Suhayl. This only confirmed to him that they must have had help from a traitor amongst the Medjai themselves to know of 'The Keyhole." The second raider moved deliberately into his path, weapon's raised. He would not pass the man without a battle, and Rashid doubted that Suhayl had time for him to defeat the Tuareg.

"Fight, boy," he yelled, and raised his blades to meet the second raider's attack. If Suhayl could distract his own captor, perhaps together they could defeat these enemies, even if the boy were still barely more than a babe. He gave a grim smile as he saw his nephew had obeyed his words and redoubled his struggles in the arms of the first Tuareg raider.

It was over in a blur of pain and blood.

Unforeseen… how could he have known? As he came level with the entrance to The Keyhole, pushing the Tuareg back step by step a dark shadow detached itself from the side of the rocks behind a fall of boulders.

Heat lanced across his arm and the reflex of his muscles opened his hand to let his blade fall to the sand, leaving him defenceless and open. The shadow rolled behind him, and pain exploded through his side and his back, like a sharp punch to the side of his spine. The third strike came as the figure completed his circuit of his body; a burning line traced down his torso from his chest to his belly and in the wake of it the Tuareg raider, showing his blackened teeth in a grim snarling grin, stabbed forward with an attack of his own. He barely felt the bite of the blade sliding low into his belly.

"Go," he heard the shadow hiss, "We have the boy."

Rashid tried to take a step… Suhayl… Suhayl needed him… but his legs buckled and his hands found their way of their own volition to clutch at the tear in his body as he fell to the side.

* * *

Something hit the ground and a chill made Aria look up from where she was still pressing as clean a cloth as she could find to the gash in A'ini's side.

She screamed as she saw him fall.

"Rashid!" Abandoning A'ini, Aria scrambled to her husband's side, bile rose to her throat as she saw the wounds… what could she do? "Oh God… Rashid, no…"

"Aria," she barely heard his voice, "Please…"

"Rashid…" she wept, "Hold – please – hold on…"

"I… Aria…" his eyes fluttered as he fought, but then with almost a sob he shook his head and sighed, "Lâ ilâha illallâh."

"No, please… not now…" Aria moaned. Her tears fell to bathe his face as her words overlapped his. "Rashid, no!"

Then his eyes finally closed.


	7. This Viper Divides Us

Star of the Morning Chapter 7 

He came again and again to the same point as the peace of the desert enfolded him. Why was he so angry with Rashid when it was Mohammed to blame? Even when he was younger that serpent of a man had done all he could to wrest command of the Medjai from his family's hands. Rashid and _his_ family had thwarted his schemes by staying loyal, first to Kareem and now to him. He had no cause to be angry with Rashid and he was nothing but a fool for giving in to emotion in the way that he had.

Well fool he might be, but never too proud to admit it. He would ride back to Al-Kharga, seek out Rashid and make amends for the things he had said and then together they would set about unravelling the problem that would no doubt be found and thrust before them in respect of their newly revealed relationship.

Marhana nudged at his shoulder, and he reached up to pat his faithful mount on the side of his neck.

"Yes, my friend," he told the stallion. "We're going home."

* * *

The two groups of warriors faced each other angrily across the central square and Nazir was not sure which was the bigger or more vocal. He held rank, for now at least – for what good it did him.

"How _dare_ you speak in such a manner," he snapped, "But for you he _would_ have been here – how _dare_ you accuse him of deserting!"

"I dare because it is the truth, Horse Master," Mohammed spat, squaring up his shoulders and standing tall before the band of warriors at his back. "He left us in a fit of temper… mere moments before the attack, did he turn back? Was he here to help defend against the raiders as his oath as First Medjai demanded?"

"Peace, Mohammed," Elder Fahad put a hand onto the raging Elder's shoulder, "I agree that our First Medjai has erred..."

Nazir took a step forward his hand clearly on the hilt of his weapon. Many of the others faithful to Ardeth took that step with him.

"But," Fahad held up a hand to forestall Nazir, "I do not believe it is right to call him traitor and such words seem to threaten our unity."

Nazir frowned. He no more trusted Fahad then he did Mohammed, but he agreed with that assessment at least.

"Look around you, Mohammed," he said, "Fahad is right and we cannot defeat any enemy without we are united as warrior brothers, as we always have been."

"No," Sulayman stepped forward, anger clear on his face. "Whatever else this day has been, it has been an education to me. Ardeth's actions placed my niece and her family in terrible danger and that is unacceptable. I cannot side with his innocence in this, Master Nazir, I'm sorry."

"You don't know what you're saying, Sulayman," Nazir countered. "That… that beast… that _righteous _man you would have us all follow practically—"

Nazir's arm shook in anger as he pointed toward Mohammed, but his words were cut off by the light touch of Ashna's shaking hand on his own.

"Peace, Nazir," she said, then turned to Sulayman, "Uncle, please… Nazir and Fahad are right; dividing the Medjai is not the way. Our warriors may have rallied under Mohammed in a time of crisis but… where _were _those warriors when the heart of our settlement was under attack. By their own confession they were needlessly holding against cowards that fled at the first sign of defeat."

She placed a comforting hand on Tarek's shoulder as she said that. Nazir knew that she meant to indicate that the warriors were blameless. It was the commander that was at fault.

"If you condemn Ardeth for his absence then you must also blame Mohammed." She sighed. "Ardeth is not here to command it and you will not hear it from the most highly ranking Medjai warrior present, so I must say it to you. You must unite behind Rashid as Honoured Second and secure Medjai lands against further raids. I command this as the Wife of the First Medjai."

"Not so, Lady Ashna, your pardon," Fahad said apologetically. "If Rashid is truly brother to our First Medjai, and I have no reason to doubt that, then your marriage to Ardeth is void and you have no voice here except perhaps as the mother of his first born legitimate son – if we choose to recognise Tareef as such."

"Which we do not," growled Izz al Din, "The boy is tainted… contaminated."

"He is Ardeth's _son_!" Ashna shouted, angry tears coursing over her cheeks. "How dare you speak of him as some kind of creature because—?"

"Ashna, leave it," Nazir put a tender hand onto her shoulder. He knew the pain it caused her, to have the sickness that almost took her son from her arms before he was but a day old thrown in her face. He remembered well the desperate ride he'd made with the baby to the hospital for a treatment that was as much an infant as the child itself. "They won't understand."

As Ashna turned and pressed her head against his chest her uncle grabbed her shoulder to turn her back to face him.

"Ardeth has dishonoured you, Ashna, with a sham marriage, without the courage to face Allah's will concerning his son, and now he has failed to protect you. You are coming home with me."

"Don't you touch me!" she pushed her uncle away and retreated inside the circle of Nazir's guard. She sobbed, "I won't leave my children."

"You will do as I say," Sulayman took a step toward Ashna, but Nazir stepped forward to meet him, his hand against the Commander's chest, keeping him away.

"I believe the Lady wishes to stay," he said quietly but dangerously.

Several of the other commanders stepped forward in support of Sulayman, menacingly close to Nazir until he was forced to remove his hand from the man's chest. Nazir made no move to step back, however, nor did he move his eyes from those of the commander of Twelfth Tribe for he had felt the movement behind him. All of the Chosen, and the remaining commanders moved to support his position, while many warriors of First Tribe formed a defensive ring around the woman whom they still considered the wife of their First Medjai.

"So it would seem that sides are drawn and the Medjai have two factions." Fahad said quietly, and as he spoke the warriors loyal to Mohammed moved to stand behind Sulayman and his party. "Those loyal to First Mohammed and Sulayman as his second, and those who still remain loyal to Ardeth with Rashid as second."

Nazir looked around and frowned. Where _was_ Rashid? His eyes found Ghayda in the crowd of Medjai ringing the square, and she too was frowning… confused and worried.

* * *

"You must find Ghayda," Ayesha told Abdul-Rahman. "I have done all that I can, but I fear it will not be enough. She should be with him. Then you must find Master Nazir and tell him what has happened here."

Rashid's step-son gave a small bow and quickly left the caverns. Ayesha laid a gentle hand on Aria's shoulder as she got to her feet and returned to where Badi'a was still attending to A'ini.

"I have sewn and dressed the wound," the other healer told her. "I believe she will recover, but there will be a scar."

Ayesha nodded, "Aiwa. A wound like that… it will scar."

"Meiri?" Badi'a asked, looking over to where the woman lay curled around Khalidah as though to let the child go would mean her death.

"I sedated her," Ayesha said softly. "She _and_ the children, though I should try to find Ashna. The twins will need their mother when they wake."

Badi'a nodded. "Go then… I will stay here with them."

Ayesha nodded and stepped out into the ruins of the Al-Kharga oasis. Already she was exhausted, but knew that there was much more she would have to do besides deliver terrible news to her friend.

* * *

The nights in Cairo were usually a strange mix of lingering heat and frigid cold winds, particularly this close to il-Nihaaya, but not usually _so_ cold as early as the gloomy dusk that descended over Miranda on her journey home.

She shivered and pulled the threadbare shawl more tightly around her shoulders. Carried on the chill breeze she heard the same scratch of claw against packed earth that had been following her the past few days. She had tried to ignore it, to pretend it were not there, and to dismiss the uncomfortable feeling that she was being watched… followed, but it was undeniable now.

Hurriedly she turned a corner in the narrow street and yelped as she all but collided with a man coming in the other direction. He threw a curse her way in the lazy slang of the souk and pushed her aside.

She had gone no more than two steps when his anguished cry stopped her in her tracks. She spun around, her heart hammering out a terrible rhythm in her chest, and swallowed down her frantic scream.

The man was on his knees, his right hand clamped around the wrist of his left as though he were trying to hold some terrible affliction from moving further over him, his face twisted in pain. He looked up at her in horror, his mouth still open in a terrible cry, from a hand that was twisted and withered… little more than leather covered bone.

It was none of this that caused _her_ scream, though it was truly enough to have done so, but the small creature that squatted in the dirt beside the man. Small and apelike it bared its teeth at her, hissing as it bent its head to once more suck at the man's hand.

"No," Miranda cried, "Stop it. Stop! Leave him alone. Leave _me_ alone."

The creature raised its head and hissed at her again as the man, its prey, screamed once more. Then it raised itself onto clawed hands and feet and scuttled toward her, beetle like, to nuzzle at her and reach for her belly.

"Get away from me." She batted at it, but her hand passed through it like smoke. Her mind screamed at her that it was not possible. She could feel its touch, smell it, foul and corrupted, like a rotting corpse, and yet nothing she could do brought her contact with the hideous thing.

The man scrambled away, looking at her as though she were a fiend of hell itself and ran in the direction of the city's Kasbahs.

The creature hissed at his retreating back and returned to pawing at Miranda even as she tried to back away.

"Please leave me alone," he whispered in fear. "Leave me… alone."

The withered being looked up and her and bared its blackened teeth, letting out another hiss, and the terrible voice she heard on the winds swirled around her, blowing like a draught through the cracks in her soul.

_We are not finished with you yet… you must give us more… let us in… bring us… call to us…_

* * *

"Commander Sulayman, I pray you, in Allah's name, reconsider." Nazir implored the man that sat opposite him at the low table in the hall. His heart was heavy and the threat to his people, his fear for them, teased at the edges of it. Abdul-Rahman had come to him with the news of Rashid and of Suhayl's kidnapping and none of it bode well for the Medjai. "I understand how you could see all that has happened as dishonour on Ardeth's part, but think on it, you are not an unintelligent man."

"I have thought on it, Master Nazir. I thought on it long and hard all through the battle we fought and the trial before it and in spite of his reaction I cannot believe that Ardeth knew nothing of his relationship with his brother."

"You are wrong, Sulayman." Nazir said darkly, "The only two that knew of it were Rashid and the very man whose coup you now support."

"Elder Mohammed has never shown me or Twelfth Tribe anything but honourable, considered action in support of the Medjai." Sulayman said equally as annoyed.

"And yet _he_ allowed Rashid to sign the scroll at Ashna's wedding with Ardeth. How does that honour Twelfth Tribe?" Nazir tried one last time.

"No, Nazir," Sulayman got to his feet, "I do not accept that and I _will_ not change my mind. I leave for Twelfth Tribe in the hour. See to it that my niece is ready to travel."

Nazir too stood. "Respectfully, I will not. She does not wish to leave, and in Ardeth's absence, and since the healers do not expect our Honoured Second to live, I must act as First Medjai in this matter and uphold her decision to stay with her children in her husband's home."

"Then as Honoured Second of the _true_ Medjai," Sulayman said coldly, "I must treat you and your renegade, honourless bastards as the criminals that you are and take her by force."

"I think you had better just quit Al-Kharga," Nazir said, his hand finding its way to the hilt of his sword.

"I think you will find that it is you who will be leaving." Sulayman retorted and then he turned on his heels and left the hastily erected council tent.

Nazir sighed and shook his head. Closing his eyes he called out to Tarek, "Any sign of Ardeth?"

"We have seen none," Tarek came to stand beside him, fidgeting terrible.

"What is it?" Nazir asked.

"It occurred to a number of us that perhaps he was… perhaps he was killed by the raiders as he left."

Nazir sighed again. "That occurred to me too, but I have to believe otherwise."

Tarek nodded, "I've sent Mahmoud and Asif with a small group of those loyal to us in search of the men that took Suhayl. The rest of The Chosen I have guarding First Family. What warriors we have are trying to clear up as much of the damage on the north side of the basin as they can so that we can set up operations there. It's safe enough as a base and we have the caverns and the secret ways as a means to get in and out of Al-Kharga. Plus if we close down the marketplace and the west road, it's defensible enough."

"You really think it would come to that… a fight between Medjai brothers?"

"Absolutely I do," Tarek said. "Mohammed has played his hand, Nazir – he wants First Tribe for his own, and with the commanders and other Elders that are backing him, and the number of our warrior brothers that have chosen to follow his lead over Ardeth's, I think he pretty much has it."

"Dare I ask _our_ numbers?"

"About a quarter that of Mohammed, and only two Elders, AaHran and Amim. Five of the Tribes will follow us, but of course it is the smaller tribes – the ones that have always found Ardeth to be accommodating toward them."

Nazir swore. "This is _not_ what we need right now."

Tarek put a hand onto his shoulder, "You do not need to tell _me_ that, brother."

* * *

She struggled… feeling weary and sick from the cloying sweetness of blood that bound itself around her as she fought to save life and limb. Ayesha forced herself to her feet; to move to another of the injured warriors lined up in what was left of the healer's hall. Bony fingers snatched at her shoulder and squeezed painfully. She moaned and tried to move away from the touch.

"You are not needed here," Rihana's voice pieced through her, and the words cut her down with shock as the number of injured and dying swam before her eyes.

"There are too many people hurt to send me away," she said as strongly as she could.

"I'll not have a traitor like you walking my halls," Rihana snapped. "Only those loyal to Mohammed and the true Medjai will serve as healers. Now get your things and get out… your time here is over... your safety too, I shouldn't wonder."

Ayesha shivered as Rihana moved closer to whisper the words threateningly against her cheek.

She bit her lip and tried not to give in to the tears that welled up in her eyes. Where should she go? She had nowhere but the healer hall – little enough that it was – and if not a healer, then… what was left for her? Still there were those that made the warding sign against the evil eye when she passed for what they thought she had done and if Mohammed's warriors found her… She backed away a step from Rihana.

"What have I ever done to you?" she asked, feeling a creeping anguish of personal loss pushing through the numbness as Asiya looked up at her, her eyes filled with sympathy. She and Bad'ia had been as close as friends to her as anyone could have. "I've been nothing but a faithful healer to the Medjai. Why do you _hate_ me?"

"You do not belong here, little whore." Rihana spat onto the ground at her feet. "You think I do not know what you did; why your parents would have sent you from the tribes to join the unclean Tuareg bitches where you belong?"

"I did nothing wrong," Ayesha implored her, backing up still further.

"You corrupted an honourable Medjai warrior," Rihana advanced, staying within reach and flicked Ayesha's cheek with the leather tipped stick she always carried harder with each word, "lewd… filthy… temptress…"

"He came to m—"

"Shaitan's slut!"

Rihana launched herself at her, the stick rising and falling in the air. Leather lashes cut Ayesha's cheek and arms where she raised her hands to protect herself until she could turn and flee. She ran into the street, heading for the back wall of the rock that surrounded the oasis. The only place she could think of to hide herself. Her cut cheeks were stinging with the tears that all but blinded her.

* * *

Ardeth frowned as he spotted the flash of dark coloured robes, Medjai guarding the narrow entrance to the rear of the sheltering rocks of Al-Kharga. Like The Keyhole they never guarded this constricted way in because few knew where it was. A warning shiver travelled over him, and his belly tightened in fear. Quickly he put his heels to Marhana and the stallion happily galloped the rest of the way.

The shock he saw as he burst into the clear streets of the oasis had him pull up so sharply on the reins of his mount that Marhana reared, screaming a challenge to the smoking ruin that had one been his oasis home.

Quickly regaining control of his horse, Ardeth dismounted and turned full circle, hardly believing all he saw, but the scent of fire and death was heavy and convincing, as was the silence of the usually bustling settlement.

Logs, the supports of a lean-too storage shelter that had once stood against the back wall, shifted and the sounds of quiet sobbing caught his attention. He hurried over and began pulling aside the logs, canvass and mud-straw rubble.

"Ayesha," he gasped and she sobbed in answer, "Cousin, what happened here?"

He crouched beside her, easing her out from under the dust and debris and held her for a moment at least until she stopped shaking, before he repeated his question.

"Raiders," she sobbed, "They came from nowhere… There were so many of them the front-guard could not hold them. They burned everything. Killed so many and… Ardeth, oh God…!"

She all but dissolved against him and a terrible sensation of dread exploded in the pit of his stomach. He grasped Ayesha by the shoulders and brought her to arms length, shaking her slightly.

"What is it?" he asked urgently. She cried out softly and he once again held her securely against him as he started to rise. "Come. Let me get you to a healer."

"No!" she pulled away from him in panic and almost fell. "You cannot take me there."

He frowned. "What has happened, Ayesha? Where are the others?"

"Mohammed…"

Ardeth cursed.

"He has divided us, First Medjai. More than half of the warriors believe you unfit to lead us and have chosen to follow him; half of the Commanders also."

"What?!" disbelief left him breathless. He knew Mohammed for a conniving jackal but had never ultimately believed that he would ever be convincing enough to recruit sufficient numbers to his side to be able to cause more than unrest among his people. "Who?"

"Sulayman seconds him," she moaned and once again began to weep. "He means to take Ashna. Nazir was going to have our warriors fight to defend her but she would not…"

The intensity of her sobbing increased so that she could not continue. He tried to have patience, but he needed to know what had happened. He breathed deeply to control his own rising emotions, to banish the panic that tore at his self control and threatened to overwhelm him.

"Tell me," he demanded almost angrily and shook her again this time ignoring her soft cry of pain.

"She would not let them fight any more…" she cried amid the tears, "Mohammed convinced Sulayman to stay until morning but then… she will go with them even though she does not want to go."

"Nazir commands? Where is Rashid?"

"Oh Cousin…"

Everything in the way she said those two words cut through him right to his heart. He felt all of his strength draining from him and he let go of Ayesha as he staggered backwards under the weight of the realisation of what she meant.

"No," he gasped, the breath coming out of him in a rush as his knees hit the ground.

Ayesha looked up at him from where she too had fallen when he let her go. "I did everything… I tried so hard, but he was… so injured…"

"Dead?" his words came out in the same shocked gasp.

"Dying," she whispered, "if not already in Allah's embrace. I do not see how it could be any other way. I am so sorry, Cousin."

"Where is he?"

"Ardeth!" he turned his head at the sound of Nazir's voice and then struggled to his feet. Nazir clasped his arm and drew him into the embrace of a warrior's greeting. "Praise be to Allah, we feared the worst."

"Where is my family, my brother?" Ardeth asked.

"We withdrew everyone to the waterside caverns. It was the most defensible position, given Mohammed's threat to us." Nazir told him. "He has given us until dawn tomorrow to surrender to him."

"Help Lady Ayesha," Ardeth instructed still reeling from everything that had blanketed him with emotion on his return, "And bring me to the others."

When neither Nazir nor Ayesha moved he turned again to see them exchanging a look that seemed to him heavy with dread. Then he saw Ayesha shake her head.

"She did not tell you how your brother was injured." Nazir said. "He was defending the children."

Ardeth snapped his eyes from Nazir to Ayesha.

"They… they took Suhayl," she all but whispered.

Nazir put a restraining hand on Ardeth's shoulder. "As Meiri tells it the boy was trying to defend his sister."

Ardeth's blood chilled in a sudden terrible anger and he threw of Nazir's hand, rounding on the warrior he demanded, "How did anyone penetrate to the caverns?"

"They knew, First Medjai," Nazir reached out to grip his arms again, "they came in through The Keyhole."

"Mohammed," Ardeth snarled.

"We have no proof," Nazir told him.

"It was Mohammed." Ardeth repeated, and the angry conviction in his voice left little room for doubt. Without a further word he hurried to find his family.

It was longer than in the living memory of the Medjai since they had needed to use the caverns as they did now and so heavily fortified that it almost was more than he could bear to look on them as they passed through the entrance

"We should not need to guard against our own people," Nazir said.

"No we should not," Ardeth's hand shook as he placed it onto the Horse Master's shoulder. Nazir gave him a grim smile and returned the gesture, squeezing his shoulder as best he could while still supporting Ayesha.

"Ardeth!"

He caught Meiri as she flew at him from the midst of several makeshift beds. He pulled her against his chest and held her tightly as her body shook with sobs.

"They took him," she wept, "They took our son… and… and—"

"I know," he whispered drawing her away from him a little. "I will find them, Meirionnydd. I will bring him home."

"A'ini…" Meiri began, but her words became strangled by emotion.

"A'ini?" Ardeth frowned and shook Meiri a little even as his eyes searched the room for his daughter. Meiri pointed a trembling, bloodstained hand toward one of the beds.

A liquid chill bit hard into his gut and Ardeth reached the side of the bed in almost a single stride. He barely let go of Meiri as he moved and fell to his knees beside the girl.

"She's cold," he said as his fingers closed around her tiny hand. He let go and drew the blanket over her, tucking her arm under the rough fabric. His face creased in grief and fear as he looked up at the others. "What happened?"

"One of the raiders," Meiri trembled her way through the telling of it and wrapped her arms around herself as though she were cold too. "He came out of the water. None of us saw him… his sword… he…"

"She has a serious wound, First Medjai, but she will recover," said Bad'ia softly.

"Aria said it was as Suhayl was trying to defend his sister that they took him," Nazir added.

"They will pay for this," Ardeth growled.

Nearby the twins whimpered and shrank back into Khalidah's arms. Their fear halted the fury that had threatened to quash all sense of restraint in him and, making an effort to soften his expression, he opened his arms.

"It is all right," he said quietly. "It is all right, come…"

One by one, first Tareef, then Luloah and finally Khalidah ran to bury themselves in his embrace. He held them all as tightly as he dared.

Bad'ia's soft touch on his shoulder brought him back to himself and he let go of the children only to watch as the twins pressed their faces against the healer's skirts.

"You should go to Rashid," she said gently as she soothed them. Khalidah ran to her mother and together she and Meiri sank to the ground.

Ardeth leaned over to kiss A'ini's forehead before he climbed unsteadily to his feet. He paused to brush the twin's hair with his fingertips before following Nazir to where they had laid Rashid.

"What have I done, my brother?"

What remained of his strength fled as he came close and he folded as graceless as a discarded rag at Rashid's bedside.

"Ardeth," Ghayda said as she reached for him, "this is not your doing."

"Where was _I_ when he tried to defend my son?" he said. His voice rose in anguish. "Where _was_ I when I should have been defending my people?"

"We were each of us where our fate put us," she pressed her hand against his shoulder. "He would not want to think of you blaming yourself because of this."

"I have wrong you, Rashid," he whispered, reaching out, but he pulled back his hand before it touched his sibling. "I should not have spoken as I did… I… I should have been with you."

His voice finally gave out and he laid his head against the side of his brother's chest. He felt Ghayda's fingers tighten on his shoulder as the torrent of emotion subsumed all that he was. The silent sobs were talons that raked his heart with physical pain and tossed his body in violent shudders. He barely felt the blanket settle around his shoulders as Ayesha covered him and stayed behind him to try and offer what little she could in the way of comfort denied to him by the grief that paralysed his family as much as it had him.

* * *

Kat lifted a hand to press it against her cheek. It was cold from where she had stood with it pressed against the window.

"Tatawin, play," her brother demanded.

"Not now, Sam," she said and sighed. "I don't want to play."

"Oh bu—"

"I want to go outside. I want to hear the tree," she said.

"What say?"

"I don't know," she said, irritated at being left to play with her baby brother all the time even if he was not _really _a baby and wasn't even really her brother.

_An-u…bis…_

The whisper came to her from the darkness outside. She smiled as she heard it properly for the first time in so long.

"What _say,_ Tatawin," Sam said again as he started to get up from his game.

_Ah-n-u-bis…_

The whisper came again, longer, more drawn out this time.

_Come, my queen… my Nebkhat… bring your son,_

"Go away, Sam," she said as he tugged at her sweater.

"Me no hear," he said and slipped past her to climb up onto the window seat. First he got onto his knees on the cushion and then his feet as he reached for the latch.

Katharine watched fascinated and almost rooted to the spot. She tilted her head as the voice came again.

_Neb-khat… my wife… come to Us…_

"Come…" she echoed. Her voice was a vague dream to her ears. She knew the other much better than she did her own.

_I know… what you have done._

"…I have done…" she breathed. Her hand reached for Sam who, with a triumphant little yelp, got the window catch unfastened.

"Sam, come away from the window," she said in the same vague tone as before.

_I know… that you have loved… our brother._

"Brother," she whispered.

_Give him… to Us…_

* * *

"And I really don't know what we're going to do about it," Evy said worriedly. "They're not even properly married. Oh, Rick I wish that idiot brother of mine would just… just… _think_ sometimes."

"Evy," Rick began with a sigh as they turned the corner on the landing, "Jonathan's a big boy now. He needs to learn to deal with his own mistakes not come running to you every time there's a problem."

"Accidentally falling down the pit into the final resting place of the God Seth… _that's _a mistake," she said as she stopped walking and turned to face him. "Living together and… and… well something else, that's…"

Rick raised an eyebrow and smirked. Irritated she almost stamped her foot.

"Well it's just not good enough, that's what. We'll just have to talk to him," she snapped.

"We?" he asked and a deep frown appeared on his face. He trotted a few step to catch up to her as she turned on her heel began walking away quickly down the landing. "What we?"

He caught hold of her arm before he continued.

"Whether or not he and Jennifer decide to get married is—"

She could not tell whether Rick stopped talking or not because, as they reached the open door to the children's play room her heart leaped from her chest to settle somewhere between her ears, or so it felt, for all she could hear was the pounding of it in her head.

She had seen Katharine lunge forward and Sam began to fall from the open window.

"Rick!" she screamed and sprinted across the room. Her body connected with Kat's and the girl also toppled forward toward the open pane. Then the obstruction was gone.

Evy slammed against the wooden window frame as she reached through. The need to breathe in against the impact which knocked all of the air from her lungs was insignificant against the desperation with which her fingers clutched at her son's tiny wrist and the strength she called upon to pull him back.

"Thank God!" she said and gathered him close in her arms, backing away from Rick who similarly held Katharine close to his chest.

"What the—!" he exclaimed, backing up himself.

"She pushed him," she said, the accusation dripping like her anger from the words.

"She was trying to catch him," he said. He sounded bemused, hurt almost.

"I know what I saw, Rick," Evy said, "and your daughter—"

"Oh, I see," he snapped, "she's _my_ daughter when it comes to a choice between her and your precious son."

"Don't you—"

"Oh I dare," he said. "Ever since he was born it's been, 'Sam this,' and 'Sam that.' It's like Kat doesn't matter any more."

"How can you _say_ that?" She raised her voice and put Sam down, squaring up to her husband, "After all we went through to get her back."

"What is it, huh?" He too raised his voice. "Is it because he's all you have left of your precious Egypt. All you have left of—"

"Don't you _dare_ throw that in my face!"

"—Ardeth!"

"Stop it, you two," Alex yelled from the doorway, "Stop it, stop it!"

Standing almost toe to toe with Rick, Evy turned her head in the direction of Alex's gaze and saw her husband do the same.

Katharine sat in the middle of the room holding Sam in her lap and rocking him gently in her arms as she murmured something under her breath. As though she realised that her parents were watching her she looked up at them.

"The voice wanted him," she said, "the one in the dark where the tree whispers. I tried to tell him not to go. I tried to stop him…"

"Katharine?" Rick asked.

"Anubis… Nebkhat…" Her voice took on a dreamy, sing-song quality. Then she looked straight at her mother, "I know what you have done."

"Mum, Dad," Alex said as he came into the room, followed by Jonathan, both of them no doubt summoned by the commotion, "I think it's time we all stopped fooling ourselves. We can't deal with this here. We _have_ to go back to Egypt."

"I hate to say it, Old Mum," Jonathan said, "but I think he's right."

Evy looked around at each person in the room before she finally looked at Rick again. He sighed and looked once more toward the children again. Katharine was still rocking her little brother in her lap as though nothing had happened.

"I'll go and start packing," he said and headed for the cellar.

* * *

Ardeth finally raised his head and took Rashid's hand into his own. The hand was cold and he turned his head from staring through tear filled eyes at the pale face of the best friend that he had now discovered as his brother to check that his chest still rose and fell – albeit shallowly – with the breath of life.

"I have only just found you, Rashid, my brother," he whispered, "and I have greater need of you now than ever."

Memory upon memory rushed over him of all he had shared with Rashid. The challenges, the joys… all the times that they had watched out for each other against greater and greater dangers. They had survived so many things just by being together – back to back as warrior brothers. Now it all seemed so hopeless.

"Please do not leave me," he whispered.

"Aria said that his," Ghayda's voice cracked as she spoke, she cleared her throat and continued, "his last words were those of the Shahadah."

Ardeth moaned a little, as though by saying this she had somehow made it certain that Rashid would die, but he nodded all the same.

"It is near dawn," Tarek bowed apologetically as he entered. "Mohammed has gathered those that follow him at the Waterside."

Ardeth set down his brother's hand and rose to his feet, throwing off the blanket and startling his sleeping cousin to wakefulness.

"Let us end this," he said angrily and took up his weapons belt, buckling it into place over his sash. "Let us see if the Medjai are so keen to follow the one that allowed those raiders in to the settlement in the first place."

"What about Sulayman?" Nazir asked.

Ardeth sighed. "I… I hope he will see sense, Nazir. He cannot take Ashna from her children. She is his niece, yes, but she is a grown woman, and should be able to make her own decisions."

Nazir and Tarek both clasped his shoulders in support, though he knew there was little they could say. The likelihood was that if the commander of Twelfth Tribe did not capitulate then Ashna would have very little choice if she did not wish for blood to be spilled on her account.

"Come," he said. "I will not delay any further."

* * *

With a cousin at each shoulder there was little Ashna could do but obey her uncle's command to be still and quiet. Still she tried.

"Marik, you know your father is wrong in this," she said, "You are a warrior in your own right. You should stand up for—"

"Be _silent,_ woman!" he snapped. "We will all abide by the word of our Commander. You will return to your parents, and from there _they_ will decide your fate."

"Cousin, please—"

"No more, cousin Ashna. It is for your own good."

The two factions of the Medjai began to assemble at the Waterside. Mohammed and Sulayman, with Ashna beside him with his sons stood at the head of one side, and Ardeth, Nazir and the Chosen at the other.

Ashna looked over to Ardeth. Her stomach twisted into knots as she saw his face and could tell that he had wept, and recently too. One of her cousins took hold of her arm but she snatched it free.

"Do not touch me," she hissed, but as Sulayman turned his head, her cousins both restrained her.

"Is she your prisoner then?" Ardeth addressed Sulayman, for the moment ignoring Mohammed.

"No more than she was yours to keep the good faith of Twelfth Tribe. I see now why you allowed her into your life after rejecting her so many years ago," her uncle answered, and she hated him for his words and for the twist of doubt in her gut as she remembered…

"_As First Medjai, I have a duty first to my people. They are calling for me to marry and to ensure the future of our tribes. They will not accept Meiri as my wife because she is Usertim."_

"_Then ours is to be only a political marriage?" she asked, her voice this time unmistakably tinged with tears._

_He shook his head, and at the movement she turned back to him. His heart turned over countless times in his chest to see the tears falling from her eyes and disappearing down beneath the veil and he cursed the interference of the Elders, that someone obviously so gentle and tender was being caused so much pain._

"_Never that," he said as gently as he could. "When I declined your father's offer of your hand five years ago, I sent a message with my reasons. They remain as true now as they were then. I would never take to wife a woman for whom I could have no feelings. If we are to marry, then I will give you all of myself that I am able."_

"Ashna is my _wife,_" Ardeth answered. "There has never been a moment when I did not show her all the love I have for her."

Ardeth turned his gaze away from her uncle and looked at her, imploring and full of sorrow and need at the same time.

"You know that, don't you Ashna?" he asked.

"_You do not believe that I love you," he said, and brushed away the tears with his fingertips. "Ashna, after all this time how can you not see it?"_

"_But you love, Meiri," she said. "_That_ is what I see."_

_He sighed and looked toward the ceiling. "Meiri is…" he said, but did not complete the sentence as she bit her lip in the pain of another contraction and he was ushered away by the healers._

"I—"

"You _will_ not speak to him," Sulayman commanded angrily.

"Is it true, Ardeth?" she pulled against her cousins and took half a step forward. "What they are saying – is it true?"

"I said _silence_!" Sulayman roared and turned to her. Before she could move again he struck her with the back of his hand. The blow stung her tender skin and the force of it took her balance, but fighting the blow caused a deep sharp pain in her belly. She staggered and dropped to sitting on the floor. Her two cousins reached to pull her to her feet again, but stopped unexpectedly.

"Ardeth, no!" she gasped and wrapped her arms around herself at both the pain and in fear as the sound of the many rifles being cocked reached her ears and she looked up at him, reaching out a hand. "Please, no more violence. I only need to hear that you did not know about Rashid."

"I did not," he signalled to his men to lower their weapons. Slowly all the barrels of the guns from both sides sank until they were pointing harmlessly at the ground as her uncle too signalled his men to lower their rifles. "I swear it to you, Ashna."

She nodded and tears welled up in her eyes.

"Ardeth, I want to come home." The words came out of her mouth before anyone could say another word or make another move. As his answer, Ardeth held out his hand in her direction. His eyes were fixed once more on her uncle, as though daring him to contradict.

Slowly she struggled to her feet and began to cross the gulf between her uncle and her husband. At the first of her steps her cousins moved to shadow her. They stopped as once again rifles were raised in their direction and at the same time, Sulayman waved them back. This time the rifles did not fall away, but stayed to give her cover as she made her way carefully to Ardeth.

Relief flooded through her as she could finally take his hand and he drew her in to the side of his body, wrapping his arm around her as she trembled against him. She could not stop the tears that came as he held her.

"I hurt," she whispered as he lowered his head beside hers. She felt him nod, though he did not let go for a moment. When he did he passed her gently into Tarek's waiting arms.

"Bring her to Ayesha," he said softly to his brother-in-law and she willingly went with Tarek until they were out of sight of the others.

"Tarek, I…" she did not need to finish what she had been going to say. He leaned down to lift her into his arms and carry her the rest of the way.

* * *

"The raiders that attacked this settlement, those that took my son and those that penetrated to the heart of our defences were _shown_ how to get in through secret ways known only to the most senior among the Medjai," Ardeth said into the silence that followed and his gaze shifted from Sulayman to Mohammed.

"Are you accusing me, Bay?" Mohammed sneered. "Where were _you_ when others saw to the defences of our people?"

"An old and tired argument, Mohammed," he answered with a sigh, and took several steps forward until he was centrally between the two factions of the Medjai. "There are many accusations I could make: that when my wife was attacked by the oasis and almost lost her life, scratches the same as those she says she gave to her attacker were seen on the back of this man's hand."

He raised an arm to point two fingers in Mohammed's direction.

"That his voice was loudest in condemnation of those whose assistance prevented He-that-shall-not-be-named from taking control in the desert when his curse was awoken; who successfully led our people when I was not able; who returned the strength of the Medjai to them time and time again.

"That his recent _assault_ on my wife… upon Ashna was directly responsible for the death of our unborn child and contributes even now to a serious danger to her health.

"Who commanded a terrified, impressionable young Medjai to commit _terrible_ acts against the wife of a fellow warrior and then accused her of adultery – an accusation that then resulted in her death when he insisted the matter be tried away from the Medjai," he did not pause to allow Mohammed, whose face grew redder and redder by the moment to interrupt, "and who tried to do the same thing again to rid himself of Meiri when all of his other scheming had failed, and who we learned within the space of this past day, manipulated my father and his dearest friend's wife into betraying their vows.

"I ask you… do not let the scheming of this man blind you and divide our people. Do not let whatever grudge he holds against my family cripple the Medjai in our disunity."

"This is not about Mohammed." Sulayman took a step closer to him. "It is about _you._ It is about the fact that when our people most needed their First Medjai he was not _there_. You failed to keep _your_ vows, Ardeth, your vows to your people and as a Medjai. You are not fit to lead us."

"And he _is_?" his voice took on a note of incredulity, "who kept the strength of our warriors away from the oasis where they were needed until it was too late? Who may well have been in _league_ with these raiders?"

Several of the Medjai on Mohammed's side of the oasis shifted uncomfortably and Ardeth was relieved at the doubt he had kindled in them with his words, but he had not finished. He needed to solidify that doubt into support for the right of this.

"Truly… _gladly_ I will concede my authority over the Medjai to another until my son is of an age to lead us if my people do not have confidence in me." He half turned and stretched out a hand to the Chosen. "Nazir perhaps, or Tarek, who as my sister's husband has the right of succession if I can give no heir to the Medjai…"

He looked around at the warriors and commanders who were assembled both on Mohammed's side and on his own.

"But for that we must first _find_ my son and ensure the strength of the Medjai against the threats that I assure you still are large in the desert. We can only do that through unity not through division. Please… for the sake of our people, and for sake of safety in the SaHra, consider your decisions carefully. I was wrong to leave, yes, but I have seen and speak the truth to you now."

"Oh fine words," Mohammed said and his voice dripped contempt, "from an Oath-breaker; from a man who ignored the interdiction against the mingling of Medjai and Usertim blood and brought Sekhemkare's curse upon us all; whose inaction against the O'Connells brought death to many of our strongest, most honoured warriors and whose _mercy_ to those infidels so dishonours the memory of those warriors.

"He comes from a long line of ineffectual leaders, whose own father committed adultery with his Second's wife to produce a bastard older brother to our First Medjai," his voice was harsh with sarcasm. "What bribe, I wonder, did Kareem offer to Hanif to buy his silence about the sire of the boy he called his son? Is this the sort of latent influence you wish to lead our Holy Warriors? Who while _I_ fought to do the best I could to advise our warriors rode into the desert in a tantrum to blubber like a child because the sordid truth of his faithless father was revealed to him at last?"

"You held our warriors away so the raiders could destroy our home and seize Ardeth's son," Nazir accused.

"Enough, Nazir," Ardeth held up his hand as he spoke, "he reveals himself with his own words. We must unite, ya Medjai 'asáakiri. There is much work to be done."

Ardeth turned to walk away from the meeting through his own people, who parted around him and followed after. He did not wait to see how many of those from Mohammed's faction also followed.

* * *

The Medjai Elder took a deep breath to calm the trembling that threatened to betray his nervousness as they passed between the heavy stone pillars that marked the entrance to the ruined temple.

He stopped beside Jaranas who stood, agape, gazing at the dark carved and painted walls.

"You see? I told you that you could use the old man's ambitions to further your needs," he said.

"It was a crime to have buried this place as your people did," Jaranas said to him.

"They did not want anyone to find what lies here," he answered.

"Not what," Jaranas corrected, "who."

"She was the mistress of He-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named. She is a what," he argued and frowned as Jaranas laughed.

"So which way, Medjai?"

"Up… up and to the right," he said softly. "The corpse you seek lies in the Temple of Isis and Nephthys."


	8. In Fulfilment of My Vow

Star of the Morning

Chapter 8

"_Medjai!" She looked up from her vantage point to watch as the Princess Nefertiri leaned over the balcony as if, in leaning closer to the squadron of Medjai assembled in the courtyard below, they would hear her better. "My father needs you!"_

_A flicker of movement from within the chamber opposite the Princess' drew her attention away from the royal beauty. The drape fell across the window. The room beyond belonged to the royal concubine – royal wife – she reminded herself, Anck-Su-Namun._

_The scene she watched spun in her head until she felt herself rise like a speck of blossom in the wind and buffeted, fell toward one of the Medjai, who were even now beginning to respond to the cry of alarm that came from the Princess' window…_

* * *

"How is she?" Anas pushed aside the curtain of his daughter's room and stepped within to stand with one hand still holding the fabric as he leaned against the doorframe.

"How do you expect?" his wife snapped as she looked up from mopping Meren's brow with a cloth that he could see was already soaked through. She fixed him with an unwavering, angry look as she continued, "You and your heathen ways… She's fevered and she dreams."

"Has she spoken?"

"Anas—!"

"Has she spoken, Derro," he pressed gently, coming to kneel beside the woman he loved. "It is important. You know I would not have risked our child if there were any other way?"

Derro sighed. "One word I know… the rest gibberish at best."

"Could it not be a language you do not know?" he asked, eternally patient with his missionary-wife's attitude. "Perhaps the ancient tongue of this land?"

She shrugged and returned to her gentle ministrations.

"What was the word?"

"Medjai," she told him, soft but grudgingly all the same. "I've heard them muttering that word around the markets of late."

"Who?"

"Everyone." She looked up at him again. "Whatever is going on – these strange murders that have happened, it has everyone spooked. Anas please tell me that you're not involved in all of that… that you haven't gotten our _daughter_ involved in—"

"I walk where God grants me, Derro, you know that. And I will make no promises that will prove me a liar, now or in the future."

She reached for him then, "So just tell me that she will be all right."

"We must have faith in God, and in whatever journey is written for us," he said.

_

* * *

She had never known the flush of fear she now felt coursing through her heart and tightening the muscles of her arms and legs as she watched from within the Medjai commander; watched through his eyes and felt as he felt…_

"_Ma'nakhtuf, your Lady!" he commanded. The Royal Princess, as much as her father, needed some measure of protection, for if anything happened to Seti, it would be she that carried the royal line until Rameses could be officially crowned._

_Without another thought he set off at a run. His bare feet slapped quickly against the marble floor, the cold night air chilling the muscles of his naked legs as if to spite his need for haste._

_He threw himself against the closed doors of Anck-Su-Namun's chamber – he could hear the cries from within and it grabbed the only part of him that had ever been anything, that had ever mattered… and with a huge cry he launched himself one last time at the gilded doors, and together with the combined weight of his fellow Medjai warriors the doors gave way, and they raced within, toward the drapes by which the evidence of a terrifying crime was masked._

_Grabbing the curtain he threw it to one side and almost fell back against his companions. His heart constricted in his chest and his blood chilled as the body of his Lord Pharaoh lay against the cold marble, as dead as the stone beneath him._

_Unable to move more than to raise his gaze to look into the bitter cruelty that shone from Anck-Su-Namun's eyes, he silently pleaded with her for explanation…._

_Once again she felt the sickening rush of dizziness as the scene spun before her, as she felt herself lifted from the sick horror of grief that paralysed the Medjai and her soul wavered on the breeze for just a moment._

_In that pivotal moment of equilibrium she suddenly remembered herself, and what she needed to tell her father. She cried out for him, hoping he would hear… needing to feel his arms around her – needing to warn him about the evil stench of death and fear and decay that had surrounded the woman he had tried to help near the souk; to tell him of the small creatures she had seen anchored to the woman's breasts, feeding like some parody of human babies – withered and ugly… much like those creatures assaulting the woman in her vision of her Star…_

"_Baba!" she cried, "Baba…! Najm al-SabaH …!"_

* * *

"I'm here, my little one," he moved to sit beside her head, running his fingers through her sweat damp hair. "You can speak to me… tell me… You can tell me now. What of the Morning Star?"

She did not answer him. She just turned her head against the pillow, as though struggling in the grip of some nightmare.

"Stay with me, Meren," he whispered, "stay with Baba."

"Creatures… lost… feeding…" she panted the words from the depth of her fever… the heat of her brow against his fingers was more than he had ever felt from any of her childhood ills, or even from the fevered dreams she often had – that he had taught her to control through careful meditation and breathing. Why not now? He feared for her. This was worse than she had ever been before.

"Stay with Baba, Meren," he told her in an almost desperate whisper. "Breathe… breathe like Baba showed you."

Her answer came at once clear as it was chilling.

"Ben bi aye hat wayt eev howt!"

_

* * *

Pure and simple hatred flooded her, filling the banks of her heart with resentment, thick and black; the fertile soil of evil, some ancient parody of the Nile in flood. She met the eyes of the man before her as she spat the words and then raised a jewelled dagger which she plunged into her own belly._

_She cried out – and though it hurt more than anything she had ever known, Meren somehow knew that it was not a cry of pain, but of triumph; her cold eyes still locked with his as she fell forward onto the knife._

_Even as the triumph faded and gave way to the pain and rushing darkness that threatened to pull her down into the pit she knew awaited her, she heard his voice and struggled to respond._

"_Breathe… breathe like Baba showed you."_

"_Baba!" she cried for him as she fell into darkness, "Baba save me!"_

_Hands clawed at her, slowing her descent but dragging her further and further down… into the pit… into the filth… into the sludge and the fire; the incredible pain and loss of death._

"_Baba!" she screamed again._

"_Your father cannot save you, child." The voice that spoke was calm and soft, but resonated with a kind of tired regret. "You are as damned as I."_

_She opened her eyes at the touch of gentle soft fingers against her cheek and gasped a breath that seared her lungs with the heat of the underworld in which she struggled against the pinching withered touches of the creatures that held her._

_He too was held, but unlike her, did not writhe against his captors, but stood in an agony of defeat, his fingers still in contact with her cheek._

"_We are both of us lost… through her," he told her sadly as though he felt it was his fault that she had fallen so far from grace to languish here as his side._

"_I don't understand," she told the man._

_A sardonic half smile appeared on his smooth features. The corners of his eyes creasing with amusement._

"_Few do. Fewer did," he told her. "Not even me, not then."_

"_Who are you?"_

"_Nameless now," he answered, the smile not fading from his face. "By decree… cursed for all eternity."_

_The smile did fade then and a fierce, hard cruelty entered his eyes where the amusement had once played and made him kinder somehow; someone she could have pitied, but suddenly she felt she was looking into the face of evil incarnate. Still struggling against the claws that held her before him she jerked her face away from his touch, kindling once more that smile that dripped sarcasm from his tilted lips._

"_Run then… little mother… if you can," he all but whispered as he raised a hairless eyebrow in challenge. "But know this… remember this."_

"_I won't talk to you, I won't!" she closed her eyes tightly and turned her head aside as though this could shut out his words._

"_In this moment of our meeting lies the answer to all of our tomorrows." His voice held great amusement as he finished, "You will need me."_

_A bright winged hawk flew between them, wings outstretched, blocking her view as she peeked through half closed lids, unable not to watch. The creatures and the heat wavered before her as her soul lifted once more, rising in the wind that blew across the desert that embraced her with its sandy heat and could have come from the hawk itself._

"_Egypt, Oh Egypt… what will become of you now?"_

_The whisper wound itself around her like some great cat, slinking against her legs and spilling her to her knees against the hot ground. She was seized of a sudden and crushing sadness, almost grief._

"_Mourn all Egypt… my father is dead! I am unto my Brother and Husband alone, that he may once again make Egypt whole and bring her in flower…" The whispered voice cracked as though it could not continue._

_A shadow fell across her and hands reached down for her, to draw her to her feet and against the warmth of a body. The softness of feathers settled around her. She looked up at the warrior who draped his feathered cloak around her shoulders._

"_My Star…" she breathed._

"_Ahteenyamhai," he answered. "I cannot stay long."_

"_You came." She shook her head to tell him that she understood; that she would be all right now. "I called to you and you came."_

"_As I will – always," he answered. "Return now. Your father awaits you. Tell him all that you have seen and heard, even the words of He-that-shall-not-be-named."_

"_Will I see you?"_

"_You told _me_ that we would meet. I know not when… not now that I am taken. Perhaps not in this life."_

"_No!" she clutched his arms as he tried to move her away._

"_My Dragon-dove, listen to me," he said urgently, "We must face that possibility… that is why it is so important for you to remember what you have heard."_

"_You can't die—"_

"_You may be the only hope we have."_

"_No, Star, no… _You_ are the hope for the future. I know this. I have felt this."_

_He only shook his head and said, "Go. Tell your father everything… the time is coming when all we have left is that which we are willing to sacrifice… but at what cost when—"_

_Without warning his vanished and she was left, cold without him in spite of the heat of the desert._

"_Star?" she called. "Najm!"_

* * *

"Meren," her father said softly as he lifted her into his arms as she woke. "It's all right. Baba's here… breathe… it's all right…"

"Oh Baba," she gasped. "I had a terrible dream."

"It's all right," he told her again. "Tell me about it… Baba will make it all go away."

Even as she started to tell him as much as she could remember – which was a little less with every moment that passed in the waking world – she somehow doubted that very much.

* * *

"I told you the boy was not to be harmed."

Jaranas threw an angry glance at Salak as he saw the blood that stained the front of the young boy's shirt.

"I have not touched the boy," Salak replied in the same husky whisper he always used, adding even more chillingly, "yet."

Jaranas raised an eyebrow in question, nodding toward the little Medjai.

"He fell inside himself," Salak told him. "When he woke from his vision his nose bled."

"Excellent," Jaranas crooned. "Then what the old man told us about the boy is true? He is truly a seer?"

Salak shrugged, unconcerned and disinterested, turning away from the audience with the leader of the band that had, for now, hired his services. It was not so bad to be working for Jaranas. He provided him with everything he could need – food and drink, and the kind of entertainment that he enjoyed. He poured himself a drink.

"What did you see boy?" he heard Jaranas ask.

The boy did not answer, and with his cup in hand, Salak turned in time to see his employer take hold of the bloodstained front of the young Medjai's shirt and lift him until he had no choice but to stand on tiptoes to avoid dangling helpless above the packed earth of the tent. The boy raised his hands to claw at Jaranas' wrist.

"I will find a way to loosen that tongue of yours, boy," Jaranas warned him, "and you will tell me all that I wish to know."

Salak flicked his eyes to the side as Jaranas tossed the youngster away from him toward the rear of the tent. Salak's attention was drawn briefly toward the door as one of Jaranas' thuggish henchmen entered, no doubt to give his own report of the raid against the heart of the Medjai settlement. He nodded to the man, but gave him little more notice until, without warning, a dark clad shape flew across the space toward the man.

"You killed my sister!" the Medjai boy growled as he moved.

The boy could barely have hit the ground before he was up once more and throwing himself on the henchman. A spark of respect for the boy and his abilities flared inside Salak and for a time he held his ground to see that he would do.

"You killed my sister!" he cried again. One of his little fists beat repeatedly against the man's belly, his feet – each in turn – kicked out and connected at various points on the henchman's legs while his other hand reached toward the man's own knife, sheathed at his waist.

Before he could get a hand to the blade, Salak crossed the space between them and grabbed the boy by the back of the shirt, lifting him away from the henchman. It did nothing to stop the boy from his attempt on the other man. He struggled against Salak's grasp, reaching up to claw at his wrists while still kicking out at the man he believed to have slain his sibling.

"No!" the boy made another attempt to claw, and then turning his head, tried to bite Salak. "Let me go!"

Salak once more tossed him to the floor, but followed and set himself astride the boy, pinning him to the ground at the waist, and faster than most men would ever imagine set the knife from behind his back against the vulnerable throat of the young Medjai. Wisely the little one stopped struggling at once.

"You are good, boy," he told him, his voice full of quiet menace, "but you have a need to learn when to act, and when to stay your hand."

The boy met his eyes, further impressing Salak as there were few that could, or would dare. There was the suppressed light of something greater than a young boy that smouldered behind the anger in the child's eyes that sent an uncomfortable chill along his spine.

"I will remember that," the boy said coldly calm as his body slackened beneath Salak. He found himself nodding as he released the child from beneath him and hauled him to his feet. Then he gestured with his head to a space in the corner of the tent and watched as the kidnapped boy went almost obediently to sit in that space, but, Salak noted, his posture was not at all one of defeat.

The youngster's dark eyes never once left the henchman, and his muscles were coiled and ready for action. For the briefest of moments, Salak considered asking Jaranas to spare the boy, to ask for possession of him, whom, he was sure, would make and admirable apprentice… then he remembered what _he_ had done to his master as he took for himself the rank of journeyman assassin… and decided that he was not ready to give up on life quite yet.

* * *

Miranda recoiled from the broom that beat her away from the market stall as she tried to buy her food in the souk closest to il-Nihaaya.

"Get away, whore," the vendor cried, striking her another stinging blow, "we don't want your kind here."

"Please," she gasped, "I must have food. I have money, I can pay…"

She reached into her pocket and pulled out coins to prove her words, thinking – perhaps hoping – that it was only because the vendor believed that she could not afford the food that she was treating her in this way. The vendor struck with the broom, sending the coins scattering into the dirt of the ground.

"We don't want your filthy money!" The vendor struck her again even as she bent to retrieve that money that she could ill afford to lose, sending her painfully to her knees against the gritty ground. "Leave us be – cursed – we don't want your kind here."

Sobbing openly now, and not because of the painful blows that still rained down on her back, she scrabbled in the dirt, like a beggar, after her own money.

"But what am I to do?" she implored the stall holder as she straightened up from gathering her lost coin, raising her arms before her face as the vendor once more raised the broom. "I must have food… I need to eat."

"That's not my problem," the vendor replied, "You'll get nothing off of me."

To underline her point she raised the broom one last time and Miranda flinched away, scooting backwards and trying to get her feet under her, to rise and leave, but the vendor then turned away, disregarding her entirely.

She climbed to her feet and brushed at the dust on her skirt even as she backed away into the crowd that milled around between the market stalls. Bodies and hands pressed against her and around her as she was propelled along on the sea of people, certain that all the voices she heard were raised against her in mocking laughter, she turned and eventually began to run through the heaving souk.

The faces she saw turned brown and withered, hideous as the creatures that now stalked her, day and night, their mouths open and sucking in all the goodness from the air around them.

"No!" she gasped, stumbling as her ankle turned on a loose pebble, "Leave me be!"

Something grabbed her arm… the fingers digging in to her skin as the grasp was firm and strong. She cried out in fear and struggled to pull away, her breathing coming in snatches until she began to weaken.

"…you all right?"

She drew in a deep and shuddering breath and the air around her began to clear a little.

"Are you all right?" the young woman who stood before her, holding her arm, asked again as she peered into her face. "I saw you running and thought that the stall keeper must have hurt you? Shall I fetch the watch for you?"

"No," Miranda gasped, "No, I'm all right… I'm fine. Thank you."

The woman smiled and eased her hold on Miranda's arm, then held out a small basket in her direction.

"Please," she said, "It isn't much, just a little meat and a few vegetables, but what I have you are welcome to take."

"I couldn't, I—"

"Yes, please," the woman pushed the basket into Miranda's hands. "It is the least I could do for the blessing Allah has given to me."

She watched as the woman pressed her now empty hands against the slight swell in her belly. Miranda's mouth made the shape of an "oh" and tears came to her eyes.

"Really," she stuttered, "I thank you for you kindness but—"

"No, I insist," the woman said softly.

"At least let me pay y—" she stopped as the woman shook her head.

"Knowing that you will eat well for at least today is payment enough." The young woman reached out and cupped the scarred side of Miranda's face for a moment. "God's blessings upon you."

"And also on you," Miranda replied automatically as the woman turned and began to walk away. She watched her for a moment, and then continued on her own journey, almost blinded by the tears that she refused to shed. She reached the corner of the souk before something made her turn back.

A small, wizened creature ran from the shadows across to where the woman stood at the side of one of the stalls waiting for the vendor to package her recent purchase.

"No," Miranda sobbed as the small creature slipped beneath the hem of the woman's dress. Seconds later the woman shuddered and leaned over a little pressing her hands to her belly. "Please, no."

Miranda turned the corner of the building, leaning against the jagged stone covering the wall and let go of the tears she had been trying to hold inside, and throwing curses to fetid air of the souk she began to bang the back of her head against the wall until she felt the trickle of blood from beneath her hair. Then she slid down the wall, bent her head to her knees and sobbed.

* * *

Evelyn turned from giving her instructions to the dock-hand in time to see Jonathan and Jennifer walking toward where she and her family stood on the quayside. At first she smiled, but then when she saw the bags being carried by a porter that was trailing after Jennifer the smile turned into a frown.

"I know what you're going to say, Evy," Jennifer said before she could open her mouth, "but nothing you could say will change my mind. I'm coming with Jonathan and that's that."

Jonathan gave Evy a helpless look. "Sorry, Old Mum, but you know what she can be like."

"But Jonathan, she can't go like that," she started to protest to her brother and then turned the protest to his almost-spouse. "Jennifer, you can't go into the desert like that. It will be terribly bad for the baby."

Jennifer pressed her hand against her belly and shook her head.

"The baby will be just fine, Evy. All I need to do is make sure I eat and drink properly," she said. "Besides, do you honestly think I'm going to let Jonathan out of my sight now, when there's no telling how long you'll all be in Egypt? I want him there when the baby's born. I've quite made up my mind. I'm going."

"Rick," Evy appealed to her husband. He gave her a look in return that said 'don't look at me.' She sighed in exasperation and snapped, "Fine. Just don't come running to me—"

"Nothing's going to happen, Evy," Jennifer said again and laid a hand onto her arm, "and I promise you, I'll be careful."

"Hello, Aunty Jenny," Alex said brightly as he came back down the gangplank.

"Hello, Alex," she answered and moved past Evelyn. "Looking forward to the visit?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he grinned, "how about you Uncle Jon?"

"Yes, well," Jonathan answered, drawing out the words in the way he always did, "apart from the bit about being banished on pain of death."

"Ardeth will understand," Evy assured them all, perhaps sounding more sure than she felt as she turned and lifted Sam into her arms.

"Then we'd better hope it's Ardeth we run into first," Rick said, picking up Katharine and settling her against his hip as the porter took the rest of their bags on board ship.

Alex and Jennifer sighed almost as one.

"Yes, well," Evy echoed her brother's words, though she spoke more briskly, "perhaps we should all get aboard and get settled. It will be quite the voyage after all."

"Yes, quiet." Rick agreed as he followed her up the gangplank and onto the ship.

* * *

Suhayl stumbled as they pushed him before them through the chipped and damaged doorway of the temple that was cut into the rock. The rock around the doorway was pitted and scarred as though from the tumbling caress of many jagged boulders.

"O'Connell," he whispered, remembering from his histories and his father's tales that, after the Medjai had defeated Seth for the first time, his father had instructed O'Connell to use his dynamite to bury the temple in its own rock. He glanced again at the doorway, where the gold leaf covering the lintel and the sides was cracked, chipped and peeling.

"Yes, my boy," the man called Jaranas told him, "the temple has seen better days. You _Medjai_ who claim to be the protectors of such things desecrated this place."

"My father buried this place to keep the Abomination safe within," he spat with a wisdom far in advance of his age, and the vehemence to match.

Jaranas laughed, and pushed once more at his shoulder, forcing his stumbling tread to take him inside the temple.

Inside, though somewhat damaged by age and the blast of the explosion that had collapsed the ceiling in several places, the sight that met his eyes was still more than impressive. The undamaged parts of the walls were highly polished and encrusted with gems and gold, which also now lay scattered about the floor in the sections where huge black roofing stone had fallen against the remaining sections of wall. The steps that led, surprisingly, upward into the depths of the temple were obsidian black, cracked and chipped in parts, but harder stone than the surrounding walls and the ceiling, mostly they remained intact.

His feet crunched slightly against the pebbles and debris that littered those dark steps as Jaranas and other man – whom he detested without limit – Salak, pushed him. With each step he turned his head first one way and then the other. He peered into alcoves and depressions in the walls and gazed upon myriad statues of each of the different gods.

At the first landing at the top of the flight of stairs Suhayl gasped as, flanking the steps, and set into alcoves, stood huge towering statues of Osiris. They kept a glittering vigil over all who approached. Their gilded angles and contours reflected the light of the torches that had been lit and set in sconces along the walls, flickering and dancing… warm… caressing his senses… guiding him closer… deeper…

_He paused at the head of the first stair, listening to the sounds of the temple and looking around him… light and dark clad priests and priestesses made obeisance before the many statues in niches along the walls. Two of the women, one in white and gold, the other in black and silver came toward him… High Priestesses to his mother and his aunt, he knew._

_He raised his head and stood impassive as they each reached up to one of his shoulders and gently, sensuously almost, lifted away the feathered cloak he wore when he was among his people. He would not wear it here. Only his mother was permitted that honour._

_Gratefully he immersed his hands in the sweetly scented water that was held before him, by a younger priestess that had appeared from one of the several directions open to one arriving at the temple. While the High Priestesses tenderly washed the dust and sweat from his body he gazed upon the many pathways with eyes that saw beyond the mortal world…_

A nudge against his shoulder broke the vision. A deep ache burst within his head and he moaned aloud without meaning to as his eyes sought what almost been before him. The temple was maze-like but very beautiful. From where he stood he could see at least three staircases leading up to various levels and something drew his gaze to the centre staircase. It went up a little way to a kind of apex, beyond which he couldn't see. He shuddered.

"What do you see, boy?" Jaranas demanded.

Suhayl shook his head.

"Nothing that you cannot," he told the man, thinking that at least he could no longer. Jaranas nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer, and started up the centre stairs.

"No," Suhayl told him, in spite of himself; in spite of believing that the best thing would be to lead them men to the heart of the sepulchre itself and let whatever awaited there take them all, even him, if such be Allah's will. "It's not that way."

"You are wrong, boy," Salak hissed. "One of your own told us to go up; up and to the right."

Suhayl nodded, and turned his head to look to the right, and to the steep set of stairs there in the same obsidian stone as the ones they had already climbed and those that faced them. The stairs turned through a right angle part way.

"Up," he said, "and to the right."

Salak looked at Jaranas, who shrugged, and turned to follow the directions of the young boy. "We have time," was all the explanation he gave.

_Balance in all things…_

The voice in his head was a soft, feminine whisper, and without realising what it was he did, Suhayl turned his head, trying to look behind him even as they passed beneath the arching dark figure that formed the lintel of the stairway. A matching figure, in silver-white marble to contrast the midnight blue lapis of the one they passed under…

"Nephthys to the right," he whispered, "Isis to the left. Light and dark on their opposite paths…"

"What are you muttering at boy?" Jaranas demanded.

"Balance…" he gasped as the temple around him began to spin. "Dizzy…"

_They stepped away from him then, clothing him in a fresh, white linen kilt that was edged in gold as befit his station. He took their hands and gave into their palms a blessing kiss before turning his strong, light steps to the stairs on his left._

_Taking them almost two at a time he soon reached the doorway at the top, and stood a moment to compose himself. His mother was within. He could already see her; feel the aura of saddened peace that shone from her like a beacon as much as did the love of a mother, both for him and for all of her people… for all of Egypt._

"_Mother," he greeted her as he stepped within, and she turned, arms outstretched to him, opening her shining wings._

"_Heru," she smiled and embraced him then, enfolding him in her warmth, "My son."_

"_You have sent for me?"_

"_There is great danger to you. Listen well for we have little time," she took his hand and led him urgently past the dais to the large stone table that stood at the far end of the room, in full view of the figures of his divine aunts and uncles. His attention was drawn toward the shining sistum that stood atop the table on a gilded pillow._

"_Forget the sound of my voice," she told him, turning his head a little so that he might see the brown and golden feathered cloak that stood beside it._

"_Why have you my wings?" he asked._

"_They are needed."_

_He reached out for them. Once before, she had asked him to fly with her; to fly over their kingdom in search of someone… in search of… _

_His hand passed right through the cloak as he tried to pick it up._

"_I cannot reach it," he told her confused…_

* * *

Salak chuckled evilly.

"Boy says he cannot reach," he said and without warning struck a harsh and painful blow to the back of Suhayl's knee.

He cried out as the shock and realisation of pain brought him fully back to himself. The pain was doubled as his legs gave way and dropped him to his knees on the hard stone of the temple floor.

His eyes flew open and unprepared for the sight which filled them, he screamed in pure six year old terror, the otherworldly calm of the poise beyond his years fled and he was, for just long enough, only a frightened little boy, scuttling away from the half rotted corpse on his hands and bruised knees as fast as his little limbs would take him. In his haste his head connected with the nearby dais, halting him in another daze of pain, the tears followed quickly after.

"I believe we have finally found our little Medjai's nemesis," Jaranas said, amusement thick in his voice. He reached down and grasped Suhayl by the back of his robes and dragged him closer to the corpse.

"No!" Suhayl struggled and kicked amid his tears, "Let go of me! Do not bring me to the Abomination."

"Ah, so you _do_ know who it is you see," Jaranas said, and held him beside the rotting Anck-Su-Namun.

"Please," Suhayl gasped, "In Allah's name, I beg you, Mercy. Keep me from it. Do not make me be near it."

"Feels the power, you see," Jaranas explained, shaking Suhayl as he handed him into Salak's arms.

"Darkness… Evil…" Suhayl corrected, feeling the dark energies pulling at him, draining his strength.

"Oh how well they teach you, these elders of yours," Jaranas said thickly as he drew a large, black book from within the bag he carried.

"You can't have that…" Suhayl breathed. His legs were barely able to support him; the front of his robe beginning to cut off the air as it pressed against the front of his throat.

"Not quite what you think, boy," Jaranas told him, "for I have restored to it the pages that were taken from it, for safety sake, I am sure, by your ancestors that buried it with the divine princess. Lost for all this time… until I found them…"

"You are mad."

Jaranas laughed.

"Quite possibly, boy, it is more than possible." Then he spoke to Salak. "You know what to do."

"I am more that ready – believe me, I am _more_ than ready," he replied in a voice that added to the insistent pressure of Suhayl's already seemingly overfull bladder.

Jaranas opened the book to pages that Suhayl could see were of a different colour than those already a part of the _Book of the Dead_ and began to read, softly at first, and faltering as his tongue found its way around the unfamiliar words in the Ancient tongue of the land.

Fear gathering once more and threatening to overwhelm him, Suhayl closed his eyes against the swirling of the dust on the floor that formed itself into shapes; small and twisted… that drew from the very bowels of the temple itself a creeping dark mist, like sludge forming around the corpse at his feet. It made no difference to him. He could still feel the seeping cold; still see the corruption drawing near, ready to give new life to the Abomination.

"Har ya, Anck-Su-Namun, nini en Nebt-het. Har ya, mi pharos, hem, teb en Nebt-het. Har ya, Anck-Su-Namun!" Jaranas' voice rose to a crescendo as Salak pulled at Suhayl's left hand.

He fought with all the strength he could muster, but did not have a chance against the man's superior strength.

"No," he cried, but his voice sounded small against the rumbling of power already deafening in the temple. A second, wordless cry left his lips as a deep pain bit at his wrist.

His eyes flew open, and he turned his head to watch, terrified as his life blood pulsed from his body to the beat of his frantic heart, falling to splash over the mist enshrouded corpse of the Abomination Anck-Su-Namun.

"Your blood will give her life!" Jaranas told him. "Tying her life to yours… not so easily banished… not so freely defeated."

Jaranas nodded, and a new pain ripped along the length of Suhayl's arm as Salak tied the tourniquet at his elbow; as serious weakness took possession of his legs that felt suddenly heavy, and strangely warm.

_Danger… Wings… needed…_

"I cannot," Suhayl gasped and staggered backwards when Salak let go of him. Darkness hovered around the edge of his vision, but his consciousness would not quite let him go.

"Magnificent," Jaranas breathed and Salak turned from the stricken boy in time to watch the lithe, beautiful and shamelessly naked figure of Anck-Su-Namun come gracefully to her feet.

She turned her gaze his way, a cold, dangerous light flickering in the depths of her dark eyes.

"Mi Pharos," he said with a bow that seemed to satisfy her for she turned her attention back to Jaranas.

"Anck-Su-Namun," Jaranas likewise greeted her, though with more familiarity than Salak thought was wise. The bow that he gave was little more than a nod of his head.

Anck-Su-Namun's hand shot out toward him quicker than an arrow from a bow, her long, sharp nails digging either side of his windpipe, drawing blood.

"Where is he?" she demanded coldly. "Bring me the High Priest Imhotep."

Jaranas, with some difficulty, lifted his free hand and held it contents up before the risen Princess' face. She let go at once and took a step back.

"So you have My mirror," she said with the same, chill voice. Then she tilted her head, "Or some of it."

Salak watched in fascinated, but attentive alert as she stalked around Jaranas, who turned to keep the fragment of blackened mirror between him and Anck-Su-Namun.

"And you covet the Princess and the Double Crown of Egypt?" she sounded amused. "Find me the Priest… and the rest of My mirror, and I will give you both."

"Anck-Su-Namun?" Jaranas asked, confusion clear in his voice.

"Not only Anck-Su-Namun… but _so. Much. More._"

Understanding dawned slowly in Jaranas face that became filled with both awe and fear in equal measure. "Nebt-het…?"

A slow smile, colder than anything Salak had ever seen spread across her face, confirming Jaranas' suspicion.

* * *

"Magnificent," Jaranas breathed at last.

"Indeed," she agreed and then the boy moaned.

Her head turned at once in his direction, and then ignoring the mirror that Jaranas still held before him like some kind of talisman she padded across the temple to where the child lay crumpled against the dais and leaned down to him.

"Heru," she said, sounding almost delighted, "Nephew."

The boy only whimpered and tried to move away as she lifted his injured hand into her own. Slowly she breathed over the cut to his wrist which knit itself together, even as Salak watched.

As though she sensed him watching she stood up and turned in his direction, addressing him as though she would a servant.

"It seems our little Medjai has had an… accident," she told him. "See to his comfort and hygiene, and do not play too hard… or too much."

* * *

Ardeth looked about at the twenty or so warriors assembled in front of the caverns, all saddling the horses brought to them by Nazir as the swiftest and best trained of the mounts. It was a good number he would take with him; a good number of the most skilled warriors. He only hoped he had left enough behind to guard those of Al-Kharga not yet under the spell of Mohammed's lies.

"I must leave you in command, my brother," he told Nazir, pressing a hand against the Horse Master's good shoulder.

Nazir lowered his head in an obedient gesture. "I will not fail you, ya Medjai 'awwili."

"I know," Ardeth said, and smiled, then becoming serious said. "If it comes to an overwhelming battle Nazir, do not sacrifice yourself or the warriors."

Nazir looked confused, and shaking his head, Ardeth said, "Come, I will address the people, and then you will understand."

With Nazir at his side he re-entered the caverns where the people sought refuge, safe against the troops that rallied in Elder Mohammed's name. As he came in an expectant hush descended over the people gathered there.

"My people," he began, his quiet but strong voice carrying to the furthest reaches of the caverns. "It is a dark day that has befallen the People of the Pharaoh, when Medjai is pitted against Medjai, but know that it is not of my doing."

He paused to allow some restless shifting to settle before he continued, "I must, for a time, leave your company. I want you to understand that I do so in order to find my son, Suhayl, and the people that took him, so that I might return and once and for all show the mistaken commanders the truth of our Elder Mohammed."

A murmur of approval travelled around the cavern as people turned to each other and confirmed the words they had heard, but among this approval was a note of fear as they asked each other what would become of those he left behind.

"I do not take with me all the warriors that are mustered here, though I must of necessity take with me some of the strongest. I do not know what will confront me as I seek to free my son, but I do see the devastation that has befallen us here at Al-Kharga, and I fear the opposition will be great. However, in order to free you, and all of my people, I must do this and face whatever odds Allah sets against me. I do this in fulfilment of my Oath as a Medjai Warrior, and as your First Medjai."

"But…" he paused and closed his eyes for a moment allowing the deadly nature of the mission on which he was about to embark; the finality of the moment to pass over him. When he opened his eyes he breathed more calmly, and his voice continued firm and true. "When I am gone from here, you must consider me dead to you, for none of us can know if I will return."

He held up a hand to quell the murmur of shock that had risen in the wake of his words.

"When I leave, I leave you in the hands of Master Nazir al-Dabir. I leave him here with you not as Honoured Second, nor as Horse Master, but as First Medjai-Regent until such time as my son, Tareef, is of an age to lead you."

The two elders in the cavern moved almost automatically to stand close by Ardeth's family, and he nodded his head respectfully in their direction, acknowledging their acceptance of his choice.

"In safeguard of this I give one final instruction to you all. My final command as First Medjai… Should it come to open battle between you here and Mohammed's supporters, we here, even if I did not leave on this mission, are too few to be victorious. Therefore should open battle be engaged I command that the warriors here will evacuate my family to safety, and continue on to Fifth Tribe to join with our supporters there and await word of my victory or defeat." Again he raised a hand to quiet the confused and frightened murmuring of the people. "You are to offer no resistance to Mohammed, but to insinuate yourselves back into the fabric of Medjai life at Al-Kharga – watching and waiting for the time when the combined might of our supporting tribes, with or without me, will rise against this false regime pressed upon us by a weak and corrupt man. He will not harm civilians, for if he does so he risks breaking oaths of which he as openly accused me of breaking. You will be safe – and you _will_ be redeemed."

The sounds in the cavern built to a bubbling murmur as families clung to each other and discussed together the terrible future presented to them; spoke out to each other of their fears and their sorrows.

Ardeth turned to Nazir, "Do you understand?" he asked.

"Aiwa, Sayiidi," Nazir answered, his voice husky with emotion.

"Meiri will show you where you must take them, if it comes to battle and Athil will happily take you in and bow to your command as First Medjai-Regent. Gather your strength. I have faith that others from tribes predominantly loyal to Mohammed and Sulayman will assemble behind you until you are strong enough to overthrow them both and set Tareef in his rightful place if I do not return."

Nazir only nodded, and cleared his throat as though he did not trust himself to speak. Ardeth clapped him on the shoulder and excused himself, heading for his family.

* * *

"Ardeth…" Meiri breathed his name and fitted herself into his arms as he reached out to hold her.

"Look to Nazir," he told her, "He will keep you safe."

"Please… save our son," she wept against him, torn between that request and begging him not to leave. She trembled as he gently lifted her chin on the end of his fingers to meet his waiting kiss.

"Look after our children," he whispered, his voice catching on the words.

"They will be all I have of you when you are gone from here," she told him, consciously whispering the words of farewell a wife utters at a Medjai passing. "They will live, as you will live in my heart."

"Oh my love," he breathed.

She watched the tears gathering in Ardeth's eyes that spilled slowly onto his cheek and reached up to gently wipe them away even as her own freely coursed down her cheeks. She closed her eyes as he did the same, remembering the feel of his touch with every nerve, every cell in her body.

And then he was gone from her, and she turned and wrapped herself around Khalidah – cold and empty and lost.

* * *

Ashna sat up a little as Ardeth lifted Tareef from her and knelt down in front of her, cradling their son in his arms for a moment.

"You must be brave for Baba," he told him softly. "Listen to Master Nazir, and to your Mother and to Ume-Meiri."

Tareef nodded, and wrapped his arms tightly around his father's shoulders. Ashna could not help the tears that came to her then; tears for her children, and for the incredible man of kindness and strength that had taken her to wife even when his own heart was breaking for want of another… and for herself, who could not love him as Meiri did – yet in the same breath realising that in some way there was a kind of love between them, and it was strong, even if not the sharing of souls that existed between Meiri and Ardeth.

She came to her knees as he released Tareef into Ayesha's arms, to be with his twin, and reached out to lay the palm of her hand against the side of his face, her thumb moving against his cheek.

"Ardeth…" she breathed, "I _have_ loved you."

"And I you," he drew her into a fierce embrace, and she wrapped her arms around his back and held him as though to let go would be to let go of life. He whispered as she held him, "though… it has been little enough and not as much as you deserve or need. Forgive me, Ashna."

"There is nothing to forgive," she whispered, and kissed his cheek. "You have given me a good life, and two beautiful children."

He eased her back then, so that they might see into each other eyes. "You are a saint," he told her softly.

"No," she shook her head. "Only a woman… your wife."

She leaned in to him when, in the next moment, he lowered his head and brushed her brow with a gentle and lingering kiss before he stood and headed for the entrance to the cavern. Still on her knees she held out her arms for the twins, and Ayesha released them to come to her arms, where the three of them held tightly to each other for what seemed a very long time.

* * *

He stood beside his horse. Behind him the group of warriors that would ride with him, in front of him the assembled mass of his supporters standing behind his family. Nazir stood in the centre, with Meiri to one side, and Ashna the other. The women had the children in their arms or held against their skirts. Beside his wives stood the two Elders who supported his cause, and beside them, his sisters – Karida and her children one side, and Balqis, still unmarried on the other side.

His heart filled to bursting with bittersweet emotion as he faced them to deliver his farewell and so before it could drown him he raised his right arm, palm outwards toward his assembled people.

"Allah humarnah," he said and then pressed his hand to his breast.

And each of them – man, woman and child raised their hand to echo his farewell blessing.


	9. Dreams and Visions, Nightmare and Truth

Star of the Morning Chapter 9 

_She woke, and gasping in surprise sat up quickly, rubbing her fists against her eyes. It was night, and the air was still, almost calm save for a small crisp breeze that came in through the rectangular window spaces in the hard sandstone walls._

"_Peace, daughter."_

_She turned her head at the sound of a voice, a woman's voice that came from the other side of the room._

"_I… I don't understand," she said as she stood, backing away from the figure who crossed the space toward her. The woman's body was just showing the slight bloom of pregnancy beneath the billowing, silken pants she wore. The arms that were held out towards her in an attitude of peace bore the twin leather bracers that marked her as Usertim._

"_I am Asru, daughter of the High Priestess of Usert," she said._

"_Isetnophret was your mother?" she gasped in surprise._

"_It matters not," Asru said softly, "You were sent to me that I might warn of great danger; a danger that will once again require you to assemble my mother's sistrum. You cannot fail in this daughter, else everything that is now set in motion…"_

_She stopped speaking, and laid her hand over her belly – maternal and protective. For a moment she looked as though she would ask something, but then she shook her head._

"_You cannot remain where you are. What must be done cannot be done without Her voice. The son… of the son I carry needs Usert's blessing, daughter and you must be the one to bring it. You and no other."_

"_But I—"_

"Meiri…?" Ayesha gently shook her by the shoulder to waken her and held out a cup. "You were dreaming."

"No… not dreaming," Meiri took the cup and sipped at the water. Then she ran a hand over her face, looking round at the blandness of the rock walls of the cavern.

…_Protection against the rising power of the gods…_

The walls whispered at her and she shivered, backing away from Ayesha when the healer reached for her.

"It's all right, Cousin," Ayesha said softly, oblivious, "You're safe…"

…_Once gave you their support…_

She caught Ayesha's hand and gripped it tightly, pulling herself toward the other woman.

"Outside," she gasped, "take me…"

"We must stay here," Ayesha ran her fingers through her hair, "Master Nazir said it isn't safe for any of us to be outside we—"

"Ayesha, please!" she struggled to her feet, using the other woman as support.

…_demand… payment…_

She felt arms slide around her, and staggered step by halting step toward the entrance to the caverns, clinging to the other woman and trembling, trying to ignore the voice in her head… to shut out the warning…

* * *

There wasn't a part of him that didn't hurt as he lay curled into a ball against the cold rock wall of wherever it was they'd thrown him in the bowels of the temple. Time had blurred and now meant nothing to him. All he knew was the punishment his young body had taken at the hands of the man he knew to be an assassin. 

"Assassin – from _Hashashian_ – a sacred warrior sent by Persian kings to eliminate their most honoured enemies. The deaths made holy by the smoking of the fumes from the hallowed plant Hashish…" his mind sought escape from his discomfort and humiliation by making him recite aloud his lessons, but this man was no _true_ assassin just a hired, cold hearted and cruel man – a killer – murderer – nothing more.

He should be dead. He knew that. He knew too that they were keeping him alive to ensure that the abomination they so prized could not so easily be destroyed or taken from them by his father's people.

Thoughts of his father and his family brought tears to his eyes. He saw A'ini, lying still and bleeding at the water's edge and whispered, "Please don't leave me, 'Ini."

He loved his siblings, his half siblings… it did not matter to him who the mother. They were all one blood and he had failed to protect one of the smallest of them. For several long moments the sobs he'd fought so hard to hold inside as a display of strength before his torturers took hold of him and shook his small frame, bringing him further pain… so be it. He deserved the pain. He forced himself to sit up, and to come to his knees. As he moved the room tilted and blurred.

_The man raised a long curved knife and started toward his father's back. He wanted to cry out a warning; to tell his father to turn – defend himself – but something held him still, unable to move or speak. A girl close by, familiar and yet a stranger to him reached a hand to run her fingers through his hair. She leaned down to brush a delicate kiss against his cheek and everything swam into focus again._

_The man raised the long curved knife and started toward his father's unprotected back, snarling – a sound of pure hatred. Still he couldn't cry out in warning, even though he knew he was in the same place… the same time. He reached out and the girl beside him took his hand and helped him to sit up._

_The long curved knife slashed downward in the man's hand… a blur of movement beside his father… The knife in the man's hand punched forward again, and up… a woman cried out… and fell… his father turned, catching the woman as she folded, almost like discarded linen… blood on his father's hands as he brought the woman gently to the ground… whispered words as the woman's face finally swam into focus…_

"Ume…!" he cried, though anything else he might have said was lost in the breath of grief that tore from his small body.

* * *

"Sometimes I think I'm insane." She trembled as she leaned against the tree as the two of them sat beside the water that reflected the darkening sky. "Not knowing who I am…" 

"You have been through much," Ayesha told her, "you must not be too hard on yourself. You are worried about your husband… your children—"

"But to not know where or even _when_ I am, Ayesha," she tossed a handful of pebbles into the water in frustration. "You can't possibly know how that feels."

"You're right of course, but Meiri, your gift—"

"Gift? Gift, Ayesha?" she turned from the water to fix the other woman with an almost desperate stare, "Why is it that those who have not one drop of sight in their blood always call what I have a _gift?_"

Ayesha shook her head apologetically, "Forgive me," she said.

Meiri sighed, "When I was little… when I knew nothing of this, but could see the energies of the land I thought my home; when I could see the creatures of the land and hear the voices as they sang to each other, then… _then_ I would have called this sight a gift, but cousin, what I have is more of a curse. To see things of the future, to _know_ before it happens that a child will be stillborn or will die in infancy; to know which warriors will not return from battle; to know things and to see things that would terrify most ordinary folk…"

She trailed off, shaking her head, before starting again just a few moments later, unsure even in herself of what she was trying to convince Ayesha.

"But the worst thing of all is knowing that even though you see what will be, there's nothing in the world you can do to change it." She held up her hand, knowing what Ayesha would say even before the woman opened her mouth to speak, "Before Ardeth died, I saw what would happen. I tried so _hard_ to change things… made sure he didn't help me down from the ledge as I'd seen… walked in different places than I'd seen, but still, _still_ nothing was different. He still died and they still blamed me for it and every other ill that has befallen the Medjai since. I _know_ you can understand _that _pain."

Ayesha sighed.

"But Meiri," she said, "is it our place to change the things that God has decreed should happen to a soul on its journey?"

"Should we not then try to avoid the bad thing that sometimes might happen to us as you, yourself did?" she countered with a question and knew that she had struck home from the fleeting, shocked expression of pain that crossed Ayesha's face.

"What is it that has you so disturbed, cousin?" the healer asked gently, her eyes full of sadness.

"We're not safe here, Ayesha. We have to go. We have to leave and I must take the sistrum to Ardeth."

Ayesha shook her head, "Meiri, even if you _could_ find where he's gone. You can't leave the children, they need you. A'ini will need her mother when she wakes. Besides which, if we were to move Rashid now he would not survive the journey."

"Rashid will not die," the words flew out before she could stop them and Meiri looked down at her hands. She sighed and added, "I have seen him riding at Ardeth's side in battle. If I could not change Ardeth's fate by taking a different path that the one I had seen, we will not change Rashid's in moving from here."

"No, Meiri," Ayesha said firmly, "as a healer I cannot allow it. It will endanger his life."

"Haven't you heard _anything_ I've said?" Meiri cried out the words and in frustration got to her feet and started to walk away. She heard Ayesha scramble to catch up to her and felt Ardeth's cousin's hand on her shoulder; allowed the other woman to turn her around.

"I understand you are afraid, and frustrated, and want to help," Ayesha told her tenderly, "but you must trust me, Meiri. I know injuries of this kind and if Rashid is moved it _will_ kill him."

"You're wrong," she told her.

"No. I am sorry."

_The ground behind Ayesha was packed earth with sparse green shoots of grass pushing up through a blanket of white; a room, decorated in warm shades of red, and a sweet, dark haired girl, swaddled in the blanket of Ayesha's unbound hair… and she wept._

Meiri blinked and tried, to no avail to fight the power that began to descend on her, sweep over and through her, subsuming her as its own.

"_Your own journey is not over, daughter of Hamad of Ninth_," the words poured of their own accord from her lips, low and not her own but from a greater source. She clamped her hands around Ayesha's arms. "_You will leave the Tribes and bear a daughter in the cold of a land far from here._"

"No," Ayesha fought to free herself from her grasp, her eyes wide with denial as she shook her head. "You wrong. Let go of me! I'll _never_ let another man touch me… of the Tribes or not."

"_You will not stop him_," the voice from inside her said, almost with soft regret… almost…

"NO!"

Ayesha finally tore a hand free of her grasp and slapped her hard across the face. Meiri started, wakening to herself as the stinging blow freed her. She reached for the other woman, knowing how much the words would have hurt and frightened her.

"Ayesha I—"

"Don't. Don't touch me!" Ayesha backed away. "You're _wrong_, Meiri. So wrong about this… and you're wrong about Rashid."

Before Meiri could stop her, Ayesha turned and fled. She sighed, tears welling in her eyes. She'd hoped to gain her support, not alienate, and now endanger the other woman. Quickly, urgently she went back into the caverns to tell Nazir that Ayesha was gone.

"_You cannot remain where you are. What must be done cannot be done without Her voice. The son… of the son I carry needs Usert's blessing, daughter and you must be the one to bring it. You and no other."_

"Leave me alone," she whispered, "there's nothing I can do."

"_You must… You and no other."_

"I can't."

* * *

"You must try, Saffrah," the midwife told her urgently, "Push… push now."

Saffrah moaned, biting her lip and shook her head, "It's too soon."

"Soon or not, the baby is coming." The old woman pulled at the sheet she'd wound around the pillows that supported her back, compacting them and making her sit up a little. "Now _push._"

This time, though not at the old woman's insistence, Saffrah could not ignore the urging. Pain wracked her belly and her back as though someone were digging sharp knives through her to where her child should be resting, awaiting birth, not as now, rushing toward delivery. It was all wrong… it was all terribly wrong.

She'd come home from the market feeling so good about the charity she'd given… but tired, very tired, and so in the heat of the day had retreated to the bedroom to get some rest. And there she'd slept… and dreamed such terrible dreams…

_It was a desolate plain, as like and yet unlike the desert outside il-Qahira as anything she'd known. She was hot, and tired and thirsty… and though she carried water in a small pouch hanging at her side it was rank and stagnant._

_As she cried out for help for the sake of her child; for water and shelter they appeared… small wizened creatures with skin as grey as death. Goblinoid they were, with sharp teeth, hairless heads and eyes that glowed with a cruel inner fire. But for all their appearance, and the way they frightened her, they brought her fresh water… they took her hands and stroked her with fingers that were somehow softer than she thought they'd be. She went with them as they brought her aid._

_The cavern they brought her to was cool after the burning heat of a sun she hadn't even known was there… and to a bed of rock that was cold and soothing against the ache in her back, and there she'd slept until chill touches against her wrists and ankles startled her to wakefulness._

_Towering figures stood beside her… men with the heads of crocodiles and ibex… and with the hissing visages of snakes, all holding her as a woman as black as the darkest, starless night, came closer, carrying something that squirmed and spat in her arms._

"_Mother…" the woman whispered as she reached her side, "…bringer… opener of the way…"_

_The night-black woman put the wriggling bundle atop the dais she now knew was her bed and in horror she watched it crawl toward her body. She tried to moan in denial and move away, turn aside, but they held her fast… open to the approach of the creature._

_She closed her eyes tightly as it reached her… refused to look but could not refuse the pain of their becoming one… a scalding agony that blossomed from her belly until it consumed her completely in its fever… as she felt her blood beginning to flow from her body…_

_And then there was light… great and blinding… like looking into the heart of the sun. The men-creatures holding her shrank away and even though she dare not open her eyes, she heard the ringing of battle from all around; the great roars that split the cavern that was shrill with the sound of her pain and terror until at last there was nothing but her own voice… and then she opened her eyes… into the leonine faces of those that now surrounded her and to the descent of a sharp and shining, golden blade…_

She had woken with a start and an indrawn breath, but as she'd twisted aside from the remains of the dream the pains erupted anew in her belly. She threw back the blankets to find the bed soaked with the beginnings of her labour. Too soon… it couldn't be now…

"I had a terrible dream," she told the midwife, moaning and once more trying to stop from pushing her child out into the world, fearing what she would see.

"…just a dream," she heard the other woman say. "Push…"

"I can't," she whimpered.

"You must."

She gave an almost guttural cry; attempting denial even as her body sought to birth the child within. As the candlelight danced; as her vision blurred and swam with her effort she thought she saw, at the edges of the light, those same leonine figures… watching… waiting…

* * *

"Meiri?" Nazir's voice startled her, coming as it was from the darkness beside the entrance to the cavern. "Where is Ayesha?" 

"She… I…" she stammered and felt him take a hold of her arm.

"What happened?" he demanded, "She should not be out there alone. Neither of you should have gone outside."

"I know I just," she laid her hand over his as he squeezed her arm, "I needed air, Nazir."

"Where is Ayesha," he asked again.

"I don't know," she confessed, "she left, she… I—"

He let go of her then and said, "Go inside. The children have been asking for you. Tell Abdul-Rahman that I have gone after the healer."

"Aiwa, Sayiidi," she breathed as she moved to obey. Then she turned back to him and called his name. "Nazir… I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter now. Go to the others. Do as I have said to you. I will find her. She cannot have gone far."

Meiri nodded and turned again to walk further into the caverns. As she reached the room where her family sat anxiously, Badi'a gently placed a blanket around her shoulders.

"Come and rest," she said, "A'ini woke a little while ago, and asked for her Ume. We have given her a sleeping draught, and Ashna is with her, but I am sure that when she wakes again it will comfort her to see her mother sleeping beside her."

She allowed Badi'a to lead her across the room to where Ashna sat holding A'ini by the hand. She sat to take the other hand, refusing to give in to sleep while she felt so responsible for putting others… perhaps everyone into danger. She watched, recognising the fatigue in her sister-wife, as Ashna moved to her side of the pallet that held her daughter.

"You should rest, Ashna. You are still not well," she said softly.

Ashna shook her head, "I am not the first woman to suffer a miscarriage, Meiri, nor will I be the last."

"But after the twins—"

"I pray Allah almost ever hour that Tareef and Luloah will not be the only children I will bear," she interrupted and then sighed and said quietly, "And when I do not, I pray that they will."

Meiri was sure Ashna had not meant for her to hear, but she did and reached for the other woman's hand.

"Ash—" she started, and then recoiled as she watched the stain of blood spreading slowly through Ashna's clothes.

_Ashna staggered; gasped and looked down… at last it happened; welcomed the pain… A woman of the Medjai, riding in secret from Al-Kharga, the horse's hooves wrapped against sound… She lay in state- amid a sudden blinding light through which Meiri could not see…_

Meiri reached out to cling to Ashna as the vision turned and swam before her, as her soul twisted to take the place of another she could no more see than she could the face of the woman in the light.

_Screams… madness… pain… her eyes opened and she cried out again, weeping as he sweated and strained over her… She wept as she reached up to touch the softness of his cheek, the thrill of the skin of his body against hers… and the warm drip of the tears he shared with her as they loved._

"Ashna," she cried, clinging to her as to shreds of reality, "help me!"

_She drowned in a sea of children paraded before her like clouds blowing across a desert sky… a girl-child, dark haired and beautiful, held in arms atop a snow white horse… Blood – a drop of blood falling, falling to stain white linen and a cry of pain – the bloodied head of child between risen thighs – being born – a dark head of curls…_

Vaguely from somewhere she heard Ashna call out for Badi'a… Asiya…

_Twin girls, dark hair and light eyes – seen through the haze of knowing they could never be hers; happier where they were… pain tearing through her belly – too soon – a grey head, shrivelled and cold – a cry of anguish… another pain in her belly, and a child born reluctantly from between aching thighs – light hair, light eyes – beautiful – emotional pain… _

Trying to claw her way back to herself, away from the madness of nameless mothers and nameless children and all of them… she was, she collapsed against Ashna, weeping.

"Oh Ashna… Ashna, I'm sorry…"

"It's all right," Ashna's voice came to her from far away, "Everything will be all right…"

The rim of a cup was pressed to her lips and Asiya's voice told her, "Drink, Meiri… drink it all down."

"Please, Asi," Ashna's voice again, "give her enough so that she will not dream."

The liquid was bitter, and burned as she gulped it down, welcoming the promise of dreamless oblivion… of sleep.

_Pain in her belly… and the wet weight of a child pressed against her breast – she opened her eyes – dark hair, dark eyes – precious child. Her last; her only…_

"_Sahar, born of Isis."_

_Her eyes flew open and she tried to sit up away from the child, but could not move against the gaze of the shining figures that surrounded her… that faded into memory as the darkness nipped at the edges of the golden light…_

"Sahar," she breathed against Ashna's shoulder as the sedative Asiya had given her finally took her into blessed unconsciousness.

* * *

The midwife's heart sank as she saw the colour of the top of the child's small head; grey as though it had been lifeless for many days. She sighed, and had feared as much when Saffrah's husband had sent for her in a panic. 

"Push now, Saffrah. We must get this out of you," she said sorrowfully.

"My child…" the woman moaned.

"I'm sorry," she said, "there's nothing can be done."

"No," Saffrah said, more a moan of denial than actually a word. "Please…"

"You child is already dead," the midwife told her, "Truly, I am sorry."

"NO!" the labouring woman screamed as the next contraction came, full of pain and grief and loathing… It brought her husband running into the room despite the midwife's interdiction against it.

"What are you doing to my wife?" he demanded.

"I am sorry, Sayiid," she said, "but the child is—"

"Allah haffad!" the husband's words cut her off as the infant… creature slipped into the world; twisted and hideous… gnawing at nothing as though it sought to be free of the very air itself, the blood of its birth pooling around it and running in rivulets through the room.

Saffrah shuddered, moaned and let out a final rasping breath, her life blood gone; a web of death around the room.

With no warning her features shifted in the candlelight… her face elongating becoming like that of a great cat, yellow fur sprouting on face and body alike.

The midwife recoiled from both the infant and the creature forming in the body of the woman she had been sent to help… the husband too, tearing at his clothing and hair in grief, scrambled away from his wife's body.

Sekhmet's new formed warrior tensed its muscles and in one smooth motion came to its feet. With an angry roar it brought its clawed foot down on the creature at the centre of the gory web, crushing it, to explode into dust… then it turned its fearsome visage to the eyes of the grieving husband and the midwife.

"Run," its catlike hiss formed the word from the very air itself. "Run."

* * *

"Healer," something about the tone in the warrior's voice held Ayesha as still as a startled animal, "you better have a good reason for being out past curfew." 

She said nothing. What could she say? All she was doing was trying to get to the remains of her home, for she had no doubt that all she would find would be rubble.

"I was just on my way home," she told him, stepping to the side when he moved into her path.

"I don't think so," he said, reaching for her arm. "All of the healers were to stay in the Healer Hall."

"There were…" she tried to pull her arm free, "…supplies that I needed – that I left at my home before all of this started."

"Then you should have waited for morning," he told her, stepping closer and backing her against the wall of a nearby house.

"It _wouldn't_ wait," she said, trying to sound both convincing and annoyed rather than terrified. She knew that look on a man's face. "Now let me pass."

She pushed at him, trying to put some distance between them even as he tried to close the space still further, and began to fumble at her clothing.

"You're mine now…" he rumbled against her cheek. She tried to twist her head away. "…to do with as I see fit, being as you're out after curfew and our First warned against it."

A scream started to gather in the back of her throat as his hands began to roam her body, seemingly fuelled by her struggles, which became more frantic by the moment.

_You will leave the Tribes and bear a daughter…_

Everything she was or ever could be came out in the scream that tore from her as she began to lose the struggle with the renegade warrior.

* * *

Nazir cursed as the tracks dissolved into chaos on the packed earth of the floor of Al-Kharga basin. He only had an idea of the direction she's taken when she stepped off the sand and from here she could have gone _anywhere._ With a sigh he chose a direction and slipped into the shadows… moving cautiously deeper into the main body of the oasis settlement and praying Allah to give him a sign that would help him to find the healer. Even as the prayer gathered in his mind, the chilling scream sent night and roosting bird alike into the air.

* * *

Anas woke from his light trance with a suddenness that he couldn't explain. His daughter was sleeping still; his wife quietly reading her holy book. Everything was as normal, and yet he felt that somewhere, something was dreadfully wrong. For a moment he wondered at waking Meren and asking her to see for him… but the girl was exhausted and needed to rest and furthermore, he felt that this was something he had to do alone. 

Derro looked up as he got to his feet. "Where are you going?"

"I have to go out," he shook his head, and took her hand to gently kiss the back of it. "I'm needed."

"Yes," she agreed, "you're needed _here._"

"I won't be long, Derro," he said as gently as he could. He could feel the tension in her through the hand he held, "but a man such as I cannot ignore the call of Allah's prophets; peace be upon them."

"And if Meren wakes and asks where her father has gone?"

"Tell her to go back to sleep and rest until morning," he said, "I will be back by then."

Without another word he slipped out of their dwelling place, and let the canvass doorway fall closed behind him.

* * *

"_In seeing that woman as the living embodiment of Usert, Isetnophret, you have murdered a nation and I cannot be certain that you and your kind will not attempt to do so again, in spite of your assurances otherwise, and even knowing that you have broken the Sistrum of Usert. It is not enough… and so with…" he faltered, cleared his throat and began again. "So with all power that is mine as First Medjai – as Sekhmet to Ra, so are we to Pharaoh – I make this decree and seal it before the Gods in my blood."_

Suhayl moaned, "Sekhmet to Ra…" and turned in his sleep, the images and words floating around the figures that dominated his sleeping vision…

_He drew a dagger from his belt and ran it, swift and deep across the palm of his hand, letting the red of his life blood fall to the hardened sand at Pharaoh's feet. "From this day forth, no man among the Medjai may place hand or even eye upon a woman of the Usertim. I forbid it. Pharaoh forbids it and the Gods themselves…"_

"Wrong, Sekhem… so wrong… do not speak the words…" he pressed his hand to his chest as though it hurt him.

"_By my life blood I swear that any Medjai breaking this interdiction will bring upon himself and his fellows the curse of ill luck in battle as in life, that his line will not survive…"_

"We reap what we sow…"

"_Know that this decision was not reached lightly… nor will there be mercy and nor will it be revoked until such time as the harm to our people brought by this act is undone."_

"Cannot… cannot be undone in this world…"

Suddenly, uncannily aware of another presence beside his sleeping body, Suhayl sat up and rolled away, coming to a crouch, his hands reaching for weapons that were not there, only afterward regretting the motion as his body protested with waves of pain that flowed through him.

"Interesting dreams you have, little Medjai," the Abomination gave him a cold smile as she reached for him. His back against the rock wall, he could not move away.

"Get away from me," he said, instead slapping at the hands.

"Temper, temper," she said, and chuckled.

"You," he accused, still not quite fully himself, "you are the cause of this…"

"Oh, not I," she said, "but another."

"You, _Aunt_," he stressed the word to prove he spoke not to the creature Anck-Su-Namun, but to the Abomination that dominated the dead flesh, "you tricked them to believe."

"Aaaah," the sound was an amused exclamation of understanding, "I only allowed them to see that which they wished for; longed for…"

"Liar," he cried, "Abomination… lesser power of fading dreams and—"

Faster than a lightning strike her clawed hand struck and drew three sharp bloodied scratches across his cheek. Fully awake now he wept at the new pain, the salt tears stinging the cuts.

"Get up, boy," Anck-Su-Namun said as though nothing had happened between them, "It is time for us to leave."

"Where are we going?" he asked through the tears.

"To visit with an _old_ friend of your father's," she said with a chuckle. "Come, little Medjai."

* * *

The man was so absorbed in the offence he was trying to commit that he didn't hear Nazir's approach which suited the Medjai warrior as Ayesha was frantic and he knew he had to move quickly. At last he was within striking range and with his knife in one hand he grabbed the man by the hair and pulled back, setting the cold metal against his throat. 

The man froze.

"Let her go," he said, deadly calm and as serious as he had ever been, "or I will kill you."

He let go of Ayesha at once and she scrambled backwards, curling into a ball and sobbing into her knees. It took Nazir a few moments to work out that he had probably been in time to save her – fortunate for the man he still held a breath away from execution – so he turned his blade away from the man's throat and brought the pommel of it down hard against the back on his neck, dropping him unconscious to the ground, then he went to quickly crouch a few steps away from Ayesha.

"I will not be the only one who heard your screams," he said to her softly and held out his hand as he would have done to a skittish horse, "Come with me. It's all right. You're safe now."

Wordlessly, obviously still terrified, she shook her head and moaned.

"Ayesha, listen to me," he still spoke softly, but urgently. "We have to get out of here."

"Nazir…?" she whispered his name.

"Yes," he said "I won't hurt you."

With a tiny sob, as though of relief, she reached out and put her trembling hand into his. As slowly and carefully as he dare he drew her closer until he could cup her elbows in his hands and draw her slowly to her feet.

"How very touching," the voice behind him was cold, calculating and drew a short scream of panic from the already frightened healer. "If I'd known you had a thing for the healer, I would have seen to it that I sent you to her charge a _long_ time ago."

He turned carefully, letting go of Ayesha with one hand to draw his blade, and with the other tucking her hand into the sash at the side of his waist.

"We're not here to get in your way, Mohammed," he said more calmly than he felt as he saw the two other warriors at the Elder's side. "Just let us be on our way."

"I think not," Mohammed said, and gestured to the two warriors.

* * *

She was sore, terribly sore – he'd used her harder this time than ever – but she needed the money. What few traders would still sell to her charged higher and higher prices as they knew she had nowhere else to go. 

She pressed the hot cloth against herself trying to soothe the ache while he slept, knowing that he'd want her again once he woke and not sure she could bring herself to allow his touch. She sobbed with the pain that first came from the heat of the cloth, and then from the relief it brought to her. It couldn't go on… there had to be another way.

"You might as well save washing until I'm done with you," the man's voice drew tears to her eyes. She thought he'd sleep for hours more yet.

"Please, I need to rest," she said. "You hurt me."

"I _pay _to hurt you, whore," he crossed the room and grabbed her hair to throw her down across the table, spread her thighs and buried himself inside her.

Rutting with her, moaning like an ornery camel with each move he made, and almost competing with her as she cried out her pain, neither he, nor she heard the increasing murmur that came from outside the tiny hovel.

* * *

From the shadow of a nearby home, Anas watched with mounting horror as the small army of civilians, all bearing torches, advanced on the singe roomed hovel that he knew was Miranda's home. 

Intuition had drawn him here, and now he had to think fast if he were to save her. There was no way that he alone could head off the angry band, and no time to summon the watch. He and only he could be her salvation. Looking around him he quickly spotted the axe that was buried in the nearby log. Perhaps if he could get to the rear of the hovel, out of sight of the mob, and find a weak spot in the wattle and daub, he could break through and give her a way out.

* * *

Keeping her behind him and feeling her trembling against his back, Nazir moved… his blade a blur between them and both of the attacking warriors. This was nothing to do with Ayesha, he knew, but if Mohammed could kill him; leave the others leaderless and vulnerable to his sect… but he also knew that if Mohammed could rid himself of another relative of the Bay family, albeit by marriage, then he would. The Elder had truly lost his mind. 

He had to get them out of there, and to safety; to where there would be witnesses to treachery that Mohammed could ill afford. Nazir was willing to bet that under such circumstances, the Elder would leave well alone.

A familiar and welcome sound came to his ears – as a horse whinnied nearby. Nazir gave a shrill whistle and listened hard, hoping against hope that the animal was not tethered. The sound of hoof beats was never more welcome, and he made a sudden vicious attack against the warriors meant to drive them back and give him enough time to get Ayesha up onto the horse.

Caught off guard, the warriors were pushed back, swords raised in defence, as they obviously expected Nazir to follow up the advantage he'd gained. Instead he turned suddenly and grasped Ayesha by the waist, all but throwing her up to the back of the horse.

He half turned again in time to catch the incoming attack, as one, if not the other, of the warriors recovered from the surprise tactics and moved up to strike hard and fast against Nazir. With one hand still holding the horse, the Horse Master parried each incoming thrust, moving faster and faster and turning parry into attack as he sought to build a momentum he could use to boost himself to horseback behind Ayesha.

Mohammed was obviously not fooled and could see exactly what he was planning. The Elder drew his own blade and advanced toward the melee.

"Imbeciles!" he yelled at his warriors, further distracting them.

It was now or never. Using the moment that Mohammed had given him, Nazir vaulted onto the back of the horse, and in the same instant that he found the stirrups with his feet, he pulled back hard on the reins he held in his hand.

The horse reared, dancing on its hind legs and turning toward the three warriors still on the ground, pawing at the air dangerously close to their heads.

Ayesha let out a startled cry and snatched at the air near the horse's mane. Nazir wrapped her securely in his free arm, drawing her close against him so she would not fall as he wheeled the horse around in the opposite direction, and bringing all four hooves to the ground at last, urged their equine saviour in the direction of the waterside caverns.

* * *

The heat was unbearable and the smoke, like hands about her neck, choked her… once again she clawed ineffectually at the door which had been barred from the outside as yet another burning brand was thrown in through the window, and yet more thatch fell to burn painfully against her back. 

She glanced again at the burning beam that had fallen onto the man that had pinned her against the tabletop as he took his pleasure from her. Whether the fall of it against him, lengthwise onto his back and his head had killed him or simply knocked him into senselessness didn't matter any more. Dry as tinder, the table and the beam itself had soon caught alight and burned as hot a fire as had driven him to abuse her time and again… he was little more than a charred corpse now… as she would be if she could not find some way of escape.

She cringed and threw herself sideways as the sound came from behind her… as though another beam had fallen… and could bring to her the same fate as her nightly visitor. It was only her name, called quietly amid a rasping cough that made her raise her head from beneath her arms and look around.

"Mr Anas…" she gasped, barely able to breath. He held out his hand, snatching it back as a patch of burning thatch fell to singe his flesh, only to hold it out again a moment later.

"Come. Quickly," he said, "And as quiet as you can. Stay in the shadows when you get outside."

She needed no second urging. Dodging the falling thatch she crossed the room and wriggled her way through the hole that was barely large enough, into the cool, clear air outside.

His arm came around her waist as soon as she was through and he pulled her away from her home into the depth of the shadows further out in il-Nihaaya. He didn't stop until they were on the very edge of the desert itself. When he did, she shivered uncontrollably. He took a robe from around his shoulders and wrapped it around her.

"There now," he said, "Insha'allah and all his prophets we are safe now."

* * *

"Nazir what happened?" Abdul-Rahman asked as they reached the caverns, thundering in on a barely slowed horse. 

"There will be time for explanations later," Nazir said, carefully handing her down into the arms of the younger warrior, "for now see that Lady Ayesha gets to one of her fellow healers."

"Aiwa, Sayiidi," Abdul-Rahman started to lead her away but she fought against him.

"Laa. No… I do not need a healer." Even as she spoke her voice trembled.

"You should let us judge that," Badi'a voice came tenderly from beside her as the woman slipped her arms around her and took her from the warrior's embrace. Asiya came to the other side and together they led her into an unoccupied, smaller cavern.

"You're in shock, Ayesha," they told her as they sat her on soft rugs and tenderly began to deal with the cuts and scratches on her hands and face. "Can you tell us what happened?"

"He… he attacked me," she whispered, barely aware of her words.

"Master Nazir?" Asiya asked in horror.

Ayesha shook her head, "No… he saved me. It was another. One of Mohammed's men. He tried— He—"

She couldn't finish, but she didn't have to. Badi'a gently cupped her face between the palms of her hands and brought their eyes to meet.

"Did he hurt you, Ayesha?" she asked softly.

"Nazir came in time…" Ayesha gasped, lost in the pain of a memory, another time, "He… only… tried."

Badi'a nodded, but did not release her from her gentle hold. "Asiya will warm some water, and then you will bathe and we will soothe you with gentle balms… and bring you to sleep."

Ayesha nodded, tears filling her eyes. "All right," she said at last… wishing she had it in her to tell someone of all the terrible things that were lodge there in her heart; a torment of knowing that the Medjai warriors were not _all_ what others believed them to be.

* * *

She could barely breathe, and spilled most of the water he offered to her, then sat as still as a little child as he wet a cloth he had in a pouch at his belt with the water they had left and cleaned her face and hands, dabbing at the burns that were red and angry there. 

"Why?" she asked at last.

"They are blaming you for the death of a young woman and her child; for the strangeness that has happened here of late." He stopped speaking when she sobbed.

"Then I deserve it," she wept as he drew her head against his shoulder, "it _is_ my fault."

"How can you say such things, my child?" he asked softly.

"Once," she said, "before I came her to work with the lost of Cairo, I served Nephthys, goddess of—"

"I know who she is," he said quickly, interrupting.

She nodded and continued, "The sect I served attempted to manifest the Goddess and her husband in this realm. I came to understand how terribly wrong it was… tried to do right, but…"

"_Poor Miranda… always so used…"_

_She glanced over at the woman still bound on the dais… was it her voice she just heard…? Did any of the others hear it...?_

"_...always to open herself, to give to others… to give him a child – murdered at a whim because he saw a better way… tricked into raising the infant Nebkhat as her own…"_

_Fear was starting to rise inside her. How could anyone know that? She had only seen it when the Priest of Osiris had taken her to the mirror and made her see for him…_

…_Yes, she had seen his visions… but afterward… trembling and filthy with the pleasure she had taken from it… from him… new visions showed her she had never been anything but a tool; something to be used and thrown away. _

_A cry of alarm made her jump, made her aware that these might well be the last moments of her life. She felt the push of his hand in the middle of her back, and the command came like a gunshot._

"_Fight, my women! Punish the intruders!"_

_She rebelled. Her own knife remained still sheathed._

"_The time is coming when you must choose on what side you will stand."_

"_Hold!" she cried out, raising her hand to stop the other women. They faltered, but in the end they fought. They fought and died. And there, with her back to the dais, _she_ fought to give the intruders time to save their own… to give them all the time she could…_

_The child… Nebkhat_

…_Tiny steel blades cut deep gashes across Miranda's thighs, and she hissed in pain._

"_So it has come to this?" Nebkhat said coldly, circling her._

"_You brought it to this," she said, "brought it to this with what you became. It cannot continue."_

"_And you think you can stop it?" the child mocked. "A shrivelled up, dry husk of a woman contend with the will of Nephthys. I think not."_

_The child struck again, meeting the same parrying blow as Miranda tried to harden herself against the words – words that stung far more than the gash on her leg._

"_Will you stand there and deny that you enjoyed whoring for your master? For our cause…? I know what you have felt, the pleasure you have taken, for I have felt each and every one of your insignificant moments of fulfilment. Felt and taken them for my own… added them to my power; your pain too. I have revelled in it."_

"_Ungrateful little bitch!" Miranda finally snapped and lunged toward the diminutive figure of evil, striking and striking hard… only to be parried and slashed across the forearm, her attack ineffective in the temple to the child's goddess._

"_Now we come to it," Nebkhat sighed almost in pleasure…_

"_I gave you life." Miranda spat, "I gave you the strength of my body to let you live--"_

"_You thought me your own, of course you did."_

"_Oh, I already know the truth. Do not seek to wound me with it now. Some other woman bore you, and you were brought to me, because then you could be raised as Ananiah wished, well… no more. No more…! I deny you!"_

_The child, Nebkhat flew at her… her needle tipped fingers but a breath away from Miranda's eyes._

"_Turn back, Miranda," Nebkhat said then, almost kindly, gently. "Be the mother you always were to me… and save yourself. Would you like to know what I have seen…? What I would keep from you…?"_

_Miranda did not have a chance to answer; found herself falling into the dark pits that were Nebkhat's eyes…_

_She rocked back and forth, weeping… wailing in pain… being rocked in the arms of the child… comforted… loved… seeing wildness in her own eyes… She felt as if she had walked into a huge black wall… pulling… pulling at the filthy robe that covered her swollen body… A painted man grabbed her by the hair and threw her… naked and screaming into a pit that crawled with figures… "Give me back my son…!" pain… Hands gripped her shoulders… shook her… "I cannot give you what I do not have…That which has never been mine…" such pain in every part of her…_

"_No!" she screamed, and ignoring the blossoming fire in her cheek where the fingertip blades slashed her, she pushed at the creature in front of her, sliding round the pillar._

"_Liar! Queen of lies!" She scrambled backwards… knowing she could not stay… knowing she could not submit to the terrible things this child would bring to her… "_You_ would do this."_

"And she did… Every night I dream and I am there… in the pit I saw, and the creatures… twisted things that follow me back into this world to do _terrible_ things. I see them. I saw one of them go to the pregnant woman in the market after she had given me such charity. Everyone I touch…" realisation dawned on her and she tried to scramble away from him, but he held her fast.

"No," she struggled in his arms, "You have to get away form me. I won't let it happen to you. You saved my life… I can't—"

"They cannot harm me," he told her calmly, "for I walk in the shadow of the Prophets and I am protected. For this very task I think; for your salvation – though I do not understand why."

For a long time she wept, shamelessly against him, then suddenly she said, "There's a man… who flies on the wings of a hawk… he comes into my dreams… he comes to try and save me only… there's another… a white dove that tells him it isn't time."

She looked up at him as he listened, saw an understanding there that she had not expected to see.

"You know," she said almost fearfully, "you know what I'm talking about."

"My daughter sees," he told her, "and though I do not understand all that is occurring here, I believe I know the ones that we must bring this to if we are to have a chance of saving ourselves from the apocalypse that I believe is at hand.

"Who?" she asked, trembling as she stared out into the darkness of the desert, knowing exactly what he was about to say.

"We must find the Medjai," he said, confirming her fears. "They will know what to do."


	10. The Return of Familiar Faces

Star of the Morning

Chapter 10

Mixed emotions flooded through him as the coastline of Egypt came into view and he couldn't decide which of them was strongest.

Egypt means excitement… adventure… love…

He glanced over at Evy who leaned on the rail beside him peering at the approaching landscape as though it were some long lost child – family bearing the promise of some sacred mystery revealed only to her eyes. The expression lent her a life, a radiance that pulled at almost every fibre of his being._ This_ was _his_ Evy – the woman he'd fallen in love with on the shifting dunes and beneath crumbling ruins. _This_ was the woman whose every waking moment meant more to him than even his own life, not the pale shadow that had descended on her as they were banished form the land that gave her life.

"Mama…"

He turned his head to see the dark haired bundle barrelling along the deck toward where Evy now waited with arms open to catch him up and press the soft kiss she always gave him to his cheek. Sam laughed and threw his arms around her neck.

Sam… Essam…

And Egypt meant betrayal.

Trust had always been elusive, always something that he wanted to give; so badly wanted to give, but always when he reached out to hand it to those in his life he thought dependable, he found them wanting.

He'd trusted Ardeth. They'd been through so much through the years; through the mess that had started in the desolate wastes they called the 'Great Desert' and would – he was sure – end there in just the same way as they had ended the joy in his marriage to Evy, but worse than that…

No matter how much he tried he couldn't bring himself to hate the man who'd fathered the little cuckoo that nestled in the bosom of his life, his reason. He couldn't explain why. Any _real man_ would hate him; want him dead, just… perhaps because of all they'd shared, perhaps mitigated by all that Evy had hold him after Sam's birth as they struggled to hold their family together… perhaps for some unknown, mystical, Egypt-only-knows reason, nothing he ever thought could bring him to hate Ardeth Bay.

There was anger, hurt… the pain of betrayal that cut him in two every time he saw Evy, every time he saw Sam – no matter how much he'd come to love the boy. He was a broken man that couldn't even keep his family together and show the love he felt to the beautiful woman at his side.

"Rick?"

He blinked and looked to Evy as she called his name.

"Sorry just…" he gestured toward the dockside that loomed larger as the moments passed, "…thinking."

"It will be all right." She laid her hand against his back as though she could tell what he was thinking. "We'll get through this and it will all work out."

"Daddy…" Sam reached for him from in the circle of his mother's embrace. He stepped closer and wrapped them both in his arms.

* * *

"When we put ashore, Evy—"

"I promise," she told him, pressing her hand against his chest to try and soothe the frantic tattoo that beat there. He didn't need to ask her to be careful; to do nothing rash… it was her family she was here to save. Nothing was more important in the world to her than to save her children from the strange and terrifying power that seemed to have followed them out of Egypt, no matter the exile that Ardeth had placed on them _on pain of death._ Only death would come on swifter wings if ever anything happened to Katharine or to Sam or… any of them.

At first her desire had been fuelled by the excitement at what she'd found in the parchment after the disappearance of her co-worker. Then, when the threat at the manor manifest, and the tensions between her and Rick had flared as a result, the reason for breaking the interdiction against ever setting foot on the sovereign land of Egypt became a matter of something greater even than facing Ardeth again and risk losing Essam to the people of his blood. Better that than losing him to the oblivion of deathlessness at the hands of some ancient Egyptian demon.

She looked up at her husband and he nodded. She knew he shared her urgency to resolve all; to once and for all free themselves from the long shadow of her youthful rash impetuosity.

"_It's just a book. No harm ever came from… reading a book."_

Leaning into Rick's arms she gazed across the remaining water, her nose wrinkling at the smell of the dockside detritus and spilled sewage, as the came closer to the quay.

"Did you—?" she began, meaning to ask him if he had any idea how they might find the Medjai once they came to Cairo.

"No," he said, his voice clipped.

"Could we—?" she tried instead, about to tell him that the museum might be a good place to start.

"No," he answered again before she could finish her thought.

"Don't you think—?"

"Yes."

She tried to look up at him, twisting her head a little and felt him shake his head more than she actually saw it.

"Even if the Medjai do still have links to the museum there's no guarantee that word would get to Ardeth," there was the slightest catch in his voice at the mention of their friend's name, "and not to some other Medjai who'd rather shoot first and ask questions later."

He had a point she supposed. Even Ardeth might not be so pleased to see them. She shivered and felt Rick's arms tighten around her a little more. She wasn't even sure how she would feel seeing Ardeth again after what had happened between them.

It was a small mercy to her that she had remembered nothing of it before the shock of Sam's birth and then afterward only in dreams and in her heart she hoped that Ardeth too, remembered nothing.

"No, we'll hire horses or camels… something," Rick continued as though he was thinking aloud, "ride out into the desert… keep moving from place to place… less change of ending up on the end of a Medjai sword that way."

"But Rick, what if we can't find him?" she asked.

"Not an option, Evy," he sighed, "not an option."

* * *

Ardeth raised his hand, bringing his small band of warriors to a halt at the edge of the village. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. The spaces between the hovels and tents were empty. Usually the village of Esna bustled with life – children running to and fro, women and men sitting sewing or weaving – chattering back and forth. The village was silent and still.

"Stay alert," he told his warriors, laying his heels to Marhana to guide him forward. "There is something not right here."

He rode slowly into the village, senses all but screaming at him that there was danger. The hairs on his neck moved as though someone breathed over them. Unconsciously his hand dropped to the hilt of his blade. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw his warriors do likewise. After a moment he drew his horse to a stop and called out for the headman of the village.

"Salyat, it is Ardeth Bay of the Medjai. Show yourself if you are able."

For many moments there was nothing and then, slowly, slowly the door of one of the houses opened, and two figures shuffled out.

Ardeth frowned.

Holding tightly to his daughter's arm, Salyat took step after stumbling step. His eyes milk white and the skin around them red and puckered as though burned. Around his face, blisters oozed foul fluids over his skin.

"What has happened here?" Ardeth gasped and started to dismount.

"No!" the girl called out to him. "You cannot stay here, Medjai."

Salyat mumbled something to her as she wiped his face clean with the edge of her veil when one of the sores split. Ardeth turned his head aside.

"There is a curse here," the girl said, repeating her father's words. "It came suddenly. Riders came, took what they would of us. My father tried to challenge them. A woman – she spoke words – men fell and withered, twisted. She spared father – an example, she said."

"Woman?" Ardeth asked.

"Creature…" Salyat mumbled through ruined lips, "among many."

"The others?" Ardeth manage eventually gesturing around the village.

"Those not taken by the creatures fled into the desert or locked themselves in their homes," the girl answered. "Please… there must be something you can do."

Ardeth shook his head but answered, "I will get to the bottom of this."

The girl nodded and turned to take her father back into the house, but stopped in the doorway to look up into Ardeth's eyes.

"Hurry, Medjai," she said, "others are coming. They will cleanse this place, touched by such evil as it is." Her eyes filled with tears. "Hurry please… I am afraid to die."

His heart twisted in his chest.

"So long as I and my people have breath in our bodies we will strive to protect the people of the desert," he vowed. Then to his men he gave the order to ride, knowing that he had found the trail of those that had taken his son that had once grown cold out in the desert. "Yallah! Nimshe!"

* * *

"Thank God!" Jonathan said as the side of the ship bumped softly against the buffers.

Rick looked over at him, saw the tension in his shoulders and the way he held Jennifer tightly to his side and knew that Jonathan too, had conflicting feelings.

Understandable – Egypt had shown his brother-in-law little other than horror; had filled him with such dread that he'd once tried to kill himself.

Rick shook his head. It was not the time to think of that now. He gave him a falsely cheery nod and began to turn away.

"All right, Uncle Jon?" Alex' voice, genuinely cheery, floated across the deck and somewhat warmed the chill from Rick's senses.

"All right, Partner," Jonathan answered, "Glad to be back?"

"Are you kidding?" Alex grinned and bustled on past his uncle and then Rick felt his teenage son's hand slap against his arm. "Come on, Dad."

"Right…" He drew the word out as he answered, but bent to pick up the bags at his feet none the less. Then he followed his son towards the gang plank. Evy followed behind, Sam and Kat each clinging tightly to her hands.

Reaching solid ground at last, and pushing away the momentary dizziness he felt, Rick turned to offer a hand to Evy. His eyes automatically swept around the quayside, watching the few dock hands that scuttled around. Where were the beggars; the hawkers and desert brats running around to snare the unsuspecting traveller into parting with far more than the would-be guides were worth?

"Stay close," he muttered as Evy passed him, "I don't like the way this feels."

* * *

"O'Connell," the old man hissed, and he cuffed the young boy at his side with a weathered hand.

The boy looked up from the work he'd been doing at his elder's side – unloading packages and valises from the pallets that had been lowered to the dock from the ship.

"Master?"

"Go to Osfar for a horse and ride to the Elders. Tell them the O'Connells have disobeyed and ignore their exile."

* * *

"Humaira!" the young man grasped her arm and tugged her inside, sticking his head further out to look both ways, first up and then down the street, before slamming the door closed behind them. "What are you _doing_ here? Does your father know?"

"It doesn't matter," she said and when he turned to look at her she was already unwinding the covering from around her head.

""Maira stop… you should not be here. Your father gave us his answer and that answer was no." He shook his head. Not two days ago he had approached her father to ask for her hand. Rightly so, for he had no real means to support her, her father had declined, telling him he wished for a more secure future for his daughter and that he had already made arrangements for her marriage to another man. "He was right… how could I support you? Or a family?"

"Ameed, I do not want to be a carpet trader's wife," she argued. "I do not know him. I know _you_. I _love_ you."

"You do _not_ know me," he told her. "If you did you would not have come. I respect your father." He looked down at the floor, refusing to look at her now that she had unveiled. "Cover yourself. And get you home."

"I have been thinking… I was talking with the woman that came here."

"That woman and her people were trouble. You should have kept away from her," he told her with a shiver. He would have said more, but stopped as a fleet shadow passed across the faint beam of light that came in from outside, where the stars still lit the street.

"She gave me good advice," Humaira protested.

"Oh?" he asked and in spite of himself looked up toward her. He had always thought her beautiful, but there she stood, unveiled before him, almost glowing with an inner light that illuminated the darkness that seemed to possess the rest of the room. He shook his head then, his conscience fighting with him and lending him the sense to feel as though cold fingers crept along his back. "Humaira, truly you are a beautiful woman, and if your father had agreed I would _gladly_ take you—"

_Take her… she is offering herself to you… can you not see…?_

"But that's just it," she interrupted him, and the whispering of the voice inside his head, "all I must do, she said, is to remain here with you for a night and my father cannot object. We will be as man and wife and we can—"

"It's wrong," he implored her.

_You can take her to your bed… pin her beneath you and coat yourself with the blood of the life she offers to you…_

Again he shook his head, trying to clear away the dark whisper from inside his mind. "It goes against your father's wishes."

"What about _my_ wishes?" she twisted her skirt between her hands.

_Or perhaps you would prefer to watch as the trader beds her over his carpets and reams her from behind… he is but down the way… see hands on her small breasts… the pass of flesh into flesh…_

Ameed moaned… his head was spinning and he felt hot, as if the press of shadows in the room, and it had darkened in the last few minutes – perhaps a swath of cloud had covered the stars – as if the shadows were a fever coming on him. He staggered slightly, and leaned against one of the posts that held up the roof, digging his fingernails into the wood.

"Ameed?" Her voice came from a long way off, but still he looked at her… and behind her to the shadow that loomed over her, coalesced almost to a recognisable shape… as a crocodile standing on its two hind legs.

_I can show you… everything…_

"Yes…" he breathed.

"Yes what?" she asked, and he could not miss the exciting hint of fear that coloured her tone.

"Stay," he said, his voice as thick as the desire that had come on him, seeped over him from the floor on which he stood. "Stay with us… show me…"

* * *

Farah had not particularly borne a grudge to anyone in her life… yes they had teased her for her size when she was smaller, and envied her for her beauty as she grew, but she had always shown them kindness in return. Why then did she now feel such anger, and toward her only friend?

"Farah, are you listening?" the other girl said as they walked home, the two of them, from where they had been weaving the whole day.

"What?" She shook her head. "I'm sorry… I was distracted. I thought I heard something."

"Heard something?" her friend stopped walking and peered all around them. The drag this caused on her arm made her stop walking too. "What kind of something?"

"Does it matter?" she snapped irritably. "Let's just get home."

"But what if it's something—" Her friend stopped as the sound came again and this time they both heard it clearly, like the hiss of wind across loose sand. The kind of sound more often heard in the deep of the desert.

* * *

His infant daughter looked up at him with warm and trusting eyes. He smiled back, but shook his head. This was the third daughter in as many children… and his wife asleep – still weak from the birth – close by.

"I cannot," he whispered, his hand reaching for the cushion from his side of the bed. "You cannot…"

His wife would never know… so many children lost their lives in infancy…

* * *

Neither girl moved… the air felt heavier with each passing moment, as if some kind of fragile equilibrium was on the point of breaking… a terrible wave that would break over the town at the slightest shift.

"Farah…" the friend gripped her arm suddenly, pointing into the street and to the light dusting of sand that seemed to be creeping on the breath of the wind, inward upon them all… upon the tread of that delicate balance.

* * *

"Would we not be better putting up for the night, Ardeth?" Tarek asked softly as they turned their mounts to head toward the silhouette of a small town he knew lay close by the banks of the Nile.

"I would not be so far from water, Tarek. The horses have not the means to go much longer without."

Tarek nodded. "We will rest in the town then?"

"On the outskirts," he said, not wishing to burden the town with finding places for the Medjai and their mounts. "We will be better by the river."

Ardeth turned his head as Hassan urged his mount up to ride with them, three abreast.

"First Medjai?" he said softly.

"I feel it, Hassan," he answered, already knowing what his warrior was about to say. Marhana too, felt the heavy atmosphere, and almost skipped sideways, skittish and unsettled beneath him.

"Perhaps it is another, as Esna," Tarek voiced his fear.

He did not get the chance to answer. Sound carries in the great SaHra. And as soon as the shrill cry reached them, to a man, the Medjai answered the call.

* * *

From one of the houses the penetrating scream rushed out into the night and shattered the fragile balance that was holding back the tide. The sands that had been creeping slowly inward, as if craving to be unseen, momentarily halted, and perhaps drew back before surging in, gathering momentum and swelling like some great golden wave.

Farah and her friend turned to run, but from the other direction a matching upsurge swept toward them and in the crest of this, figures formed, great lionesses bearing huge and shining golden blades.

The girls half turned again, clinging to each other as they tried to find a way to go, a place to run… but the roughness of a wall scraped Farah's back and trapped, all but petrified at the sight before her she could do little but try to hold in the scream that bubbled in the back of her throat.

Still the leonine figures from the waves stalked closer, closing in on her, and her friend who moaned in terror.

"Please…" the girl whined, "We haven't…"

The scream of fear and pain came again from the one of the houses and many of the lioness warriors lifted their heads, and scattered – running on powerful feet toward the sound, and toward the many other doorways around the town; many… but not all.

Two still stalked and circled toward where Farah cowered with her friend… her head spinning with fear, a sound, which could have been her frantic heart, pounding in her head like hoof beats.

"We haven't…" her friend moaned again, "Plea—"

The end of the word was lost in the eruption of blood as the point of a lioness' deadly blade burst from the girl's chest. A deadly warrior had circled unseen behind the two and struck even as the girl protested their innocence.

Farah's scream, shrill and desperate, echoed another of agonised fear from the house further along the street.

* * *

"Follow them," he ordered as the supernatural warriors scattered toward the houses. He rode in as fast as Marhana could, fearing for the girls he saw trapped against the side of the house. "Do not let them harm the townsfolk."

His Medjai warriors fanned out, riding hard toward where the creatures now stalked their prey as Ardeth himself rode on.

One of the two girls screamed, and sorrowfully, he realised he was come too late to save them both, but even as the second warrior raised the sharp golden blade to strike, he sent his own scimitar spinning sideways toward the leonine form, without slowing his horse even half a stride.

The blade took the creatures head from its body and sent a spray of sand over the terrified girl, and over his arm as he reached down, and snatched her across the middle of her back, lifting her to sit before him as he continued the pass, but now tugged gently on the rein to encourage Marhana to slow.

"Stay with my horse," he told the girl, and slid into a graceful dismount even before Marhana was fully stationary. He set off at a run toward the remaining warrior, meaning to cut her off before she reached the doorway of the house.

* * *

Tarek and Mahmoud burst through the doorway as another scream sounded from within. The cloying, sickly smell of blood and sex; of other bodily secretions all but cut Tarek down before he even moved, but at the sight of the woman, helpless and bound… spread like the parody of a sacrifice, lent him the strength to push past his nausea.

It was as walking into a slaughterhouse. A young man lay in a pool of his own filth, torn and bleeding from many cuts, while the girl still writhed and screamed as though unseen bodies played and fed upon her flesh… unseen spirits…

He did not stop to think, but moved toward the other two figures in the room, the figures that battled for possession of the woman. The crocodile headed warrior of Seth turned and hissed in his direction.

"Medjai…" it hissed.

"Warrior for God…" its opponent also turned, breathing the words on the end of a growl. "…brother…"

"No brother of yours," he answered harshly, and then with a breath as he advanced on Seth's warrior ordered, "In the name of Allah, most Merciful, I command all unclean spirits to Leave. This. Place."

Each of the last three words of his sentence were punctuated by the clash of his blade against that of the crocodile headed warrior, and from the corner of his eye he saw Mahmoud move to try and defend the two others in the room from the advance of the leonine form.

* * *

Ardeth hurried through the door only a breath behind the lion headed warrioress. Even so, as the avenging angel she was, he was hard pressed to keep up with her. Before he knew what was happening she had grabbed a man by the back of his robe and was punching forward with her blade.

"No!" he commanded, lunging forward with his own, retrieved from the ground outside. He knew his strike would barely even injure the warrior, but it might distract her enough to save the man.

"Baba!"

A sickness churned in his stomach as he saw a little girl launch herself toward the man and his assailant. Her path would but her directly in the way of the warrior's blade, and of his if he tried to deflect the stroke.

"No, girl!" he cried out, but too late.

The lion headed warrior lashed out with her free hand, the claws raking across the girl's chest and sending her flying away, to lie motionless against the wall.

Channelling the anger he felt he rolled around the warrior, putting himself in the way of the still incoming blade and sweeping his scimitar down and out, turning the strike aside. He did not wait for the warrior to regain her stride, and at once set himself on the attack, guiding his lighter blade with both hands against the heavier sword the lioness bore.

"You err, Medjai," she hissed at him.

"And you do not belong here," he countered, striking a blow against her shoulder that merely sent a small spay of sand into the air. "Leave now, beloved of Sekhmet, and take your sisters with you."

The lion headed warrior only laughed.

"So be it." Ardeth responded with almost a bow, and came on again, with renewed vigour.

He struck first to one side and then the other, never letting himself fall into a pattern that the creature could have discerned. He made his attacks at first low, and then high, and then low again. He knew, and the creature knew that to halt her – to take her unnatural life from her he would have to sever her head from her body. Such was the way of these things… Anubis… Seth… Sekhmet… it was all the same. They did not belong in this world, and it was his duty as Medjai to act in protection against such creatures.

At last, with a feint to the left, he came in on the right, and high… making a figure eight with his blade that had the last stroke pass horizontally across the creature's shoulder. He turned away to protect his eyes from the stinging sand that for a moment filled the room.

At the sound of a woman's high pitched wail he straightened and tried to take in the scene before him. She knelt beside a little bed, a cushion overturned nearby, and she was rocking something in her arms… whispering a name over and over again. The man he had saved knelt weeping, holding the girl whom the creature had attacked, against his chest.

"What have I done…?" he moaned over and over again, and beyond him, another little girl hiccupped… terrified tears, rocking back and forth with her head pressed against her knees.

He went first to the woman, guessing what had happened, and why the righteous warrior of Sekhmet had been trying to attack the man.

"My baby," she cried. "My daughter…"

"Set her down," he said.

"No," she moaned and held the child more tightly.

"Do as I say and set her down," he commanded.

This time the woman obeyed, and at once he began to try and help the smothered infant, trying to work out in his mind how long it had all been. Relieved to find the flesh still warm he leaned down and breathed into the baby's nose and mouth… as almost two and a half years before he had seen the healers do.

"_He does not cry… why does he not cry…?" Ashna's voice was faint but shrill with panic._

"_They will help him, Ashna," he told her and squeezed her hand. "We have to trust them."_

_He peered around the screen they had erected when he refused to wait outside. Ashna had wanted him to be with her at the birth of the twins and though the healers protested, it was little enough that he could give to her, as sick as she had been, and as afraid as she was… not for herself, but for the life of their children._

"_Name him, Ardeth… please…" Ashna begged, "give him a reason to live."_

_He watched as Ayesha leaned down again to place her mouth over his tiny face and give the breath of life into his son's body._

"_He shall be called Tareef – and his sister Luloah." He looked then at the tiny little baby boy and whispered, "You must live, Tareef… your sister will need you."_

As Tareef had, the baby gave an almost indignant cough… spluttered once and taking a huge breath began to cry… at first faintly, but then growing louder as she regained the use of her lungs.

"Oh…" the woman all but prostrated herself before Ardeth, and he caught her shoulders to raise her up.

"Come now woman," he said to her, "Your children need you. Be sure to give the baby space enough, for a while."

Then he got to his feet and came over to the husband, crouching down to feel for a pulse in the eldest child's neck. His fingers met only cooling flesh, and as he looked he saw that the lioness' claws had torn the vein at the girl's neck before ever they slashed her body.

"Put the girl down," he ordered the man. "There is nothing you can do."

The man gave an anguished cry then, and looked up into Ardeth's stern face, "Please… I did not… we just… we cannot feed another mouth… support another girl-child. I had hoped for a son, I had—"

Ardeth caught the woman as she flew at her husband, fists flailing, spitting like a hell cat. It was all he could do to hold her back, though in truth he did not know why he bothered.

"No," he said firmly, holding her against him, "Mother stop… You have two daughters who need you. Look to your girls…"

Finally she calmed enough to stop struggling with him, and then spat in her husband's face.

"You are no husband to me!" she said harshly, and pulled herself from Ardeth's restraining grasp to go to the daughter that still wept in the corner of the room, and wrapped herself around the girl, running her hand over her hair and whispering the girl's name soothingly over and over again.

"Get up." Ardeth ordered the man.

"What do you mean to do with me?" he asked fearfully.

"You will be taken from here to the authorities in Cairo. They will do with you as the law demands."

The man broke down again, but Ardeth roughly took his arm, unmoved by his self-pitying tears.

* * *

Mahmoud turned his head aside, as working together he and Tarek managed finally to send Seth's warrior back into the underworld. The silence that fell was heavy and laboured. After only a moment longer he came to the woman's side. She was barely breathing, and had lost much blood… and without a healer he did not think there was much chance for her to survive.

He looked around for clean rags to press against where the blood flowed, and then to push down on her belly, but as he did the woman weakly caught his hand.

"No," she whispered, barely audible, "Please…"

Thinking she had mistaken him for one of the creatures that had been assaulting her, he said soothingly, "Peace, my lady… you are safe. I am Medjai."

She shook her head and took a shuddering breath. "Please…" she said again, "I cannot… please… let me go."

Mahmoud looked up at Tarek, and his brother warrior nodded sadly.

"What is your name?" Mahmoud asked the woman as he and Tarek gently covered her with a blanket they found.

"Humaira," she whispered.

"You have been very brave, Humaira," Tarek told her, coming to sit beside her opposite Mahmoud.

"Let us hear you," Mahmoud said equally as quietly, his hand at her wrist felt her pulse growing thready and weak. "Humaira…?"

Slowly she opened her eyes and looked up into Mahmoud's own. He saw gratitude there… and also a little fear, and gently took her hand into his and squeezed it softly.

"It's all right," he said quietly, "We are with you…"

Very faintly, almost inaudible she whispered, "Lâ… ilâha…. Illallâh," and struggled only slightly as a tremor passed through her body as the last breath left her.

"Truly to Allah we belong," Mahmoud whispered as he reached over to gently close her eyes.

"And to Him we shall return." Tarek responded. "She was brave to the last."

* * *

Suhayl tried, futilely, to recognise landmarks as they rode through the desert. If he could find out where they were, then when he had a chance for escape he would know in which direction to run, but it was dark, and he knew little of the desert beyond the immediate surroundings of Al-Kharga… and they had long since moved away from there. So, having no other choice but to conserve his strength, and try to escape the now constant aches in his body, he allowed the swaying of the camel to lull him into sleep…

_This time he did not fly, but walked the hard packed land of rock and earth towards an archway he could see ahead. Above him the sky was a wash of dark clouds and boiling red in an endless sunset – like a sea of blood with putrid spray of grey._

_Matching his course, though keeping their distance, small, twisted figures crawled and skittered along, like scorpions on the baked earth. All around he could hear them… their hissing, cackling voices… spitting out their curses to fall like seeds onto the barren land and further off, yet all around him, the crying and screaming of those in need – weeping for mercy; for aid; for death…_

"_Najm al SabaH!" He caught the figure that flew at him as he passed under the archway, "I've been so afraid."_

"_I am here," he framed her face with his hands, "my Dragon-dove. I am safe."_

"_They've hurt you. I can feel it," she told him, and began to run her hands over him. _

_Her touch soothed the aches he felt and yet, still he said, "I do not matter. You have to tell me what I must do."_

"_You already know," she said, frowning and looking up at him in something approaching panic. "You have to."_

_He shook his head._

"_You will," she assured him. "Where are they taking you?"_

"_To him," he said darkly._

"_To Imh—"_

_He pressed his fingers to her lips, cutting off the word, the name, "Speak not his name." The warmth of her breath against his hand stirred feelings in him, deep and strong. Slowly he moved his fingers to caress her cheek and she nuzzled at the touch, until he slowly leaned down to her, to share her breath, meaning to share with her a gentle kiss. Reluctantly she turned her face away._

"_We cannot," she said mournfully, "not yet."_

"_Oh, my Dragon-dove," he whispered, closing his eyes, "so much is happening."_

_She nodded against his hand. "It has begun. It will come faster now. Battle is joined."_

"_The woman? The woman I saw…?"_

"_Was only the beginning."_

"_But you said I'd help her," his eyes flew open and he looked around and paced as if searching would find the one that was tortured and allow him to go to her, to take up his sword and smite all of the little demons that fed from her… hurt her… "I have failed her."_

"_No," she came to him again and took both his hands in hers, "You _will _help her, but more now than just one woman. My star," she squeezed his hands imploringly almost in tears before him. "Do you not know who you are…? What you must do?"_

"_Oh, my Dove…" he drew her into his arms and she burrowed there, holding him tightly, "I am _so_ tired."_

"_You must not give in to them."_

"_The Abomination, she…"_

"_Will be defeated." She looked up at him again, the light of hope shining from her eyes, "When all the pieces are in place, you will truly travel within from the waking world. Then… only then…"_

"_But what _now?_ What must we do until then?"_

"_Wait…"_

"_But people _**need**_ me."_

"_Endure…" she whispered._

"Endure…" Suhayl breathed as he woke.

"Did the little Medjai say something?" Salak teased, reaching over to grasp one of his arms and pull him to his camel, to sit helpless and bound in front of him. He remained mute, refusing to give Salak the satisfaction of hearing his voice.

Salak chuckled and covered them both with his cloak, drawing him closer. "Well now," he whispered into Suhayl's ear. Suhayl heard the hateful hiss of Salak's knife clearing its sheath, "Let us see how much you can 'endure.'"

* * *

Meren woke with a start as someone urgently shook her by the shoulder. She sat up and rubbed her eyes; memories of the dream already fading. Only one memory remained. He was hurt. Her Star was hurt.

"Get up quickly, daughter… dress yourself." Her father's voice sounded urgent.

"Papa?"

"It isn't safe for you here. You are going with your mother."

"But… but…"

"Meren, just for once heed me with no debate. Cairo is no longer safe. You must go with your mother back to the fort. You will both be safer there."

"But I cannot." The words burst from her before she could stop them. "I have to find him. He's hurt he—"

Her father stopped the frantic packing he was doing then and came to sit on the side of her bed. Gentle as ever he took her hands.

"Meren, my child, you cannot help him if you, yourself are killed." He ran his hand over the side of her face gently and smoothed back her sleep tousled hair. "I do not lightly send you away."

"But how will I find him if I am not here? How will I help him?"

Her father shook his head. "I do not know." He sighed then before he continued hesitantly, "but…"

"But?"

"Do you know the hill nearby your mother's fort? The one beyond the temple ruins?" She nodded and he went on. "It is a sacred hill for those of my kind… and since you have vision… perhaps…"

"You think it would show me how to help my Star?"

"It may, but it is… it is a place of great power, Meren. If you choose to go there, you must do so with much care."

She threw her arms around her father and held him tightly. "I will, Papa, I promise."

He held her just as tightly in return before he rose to continue the frantic packing and this time Meren did not protest.

* * *

Nazir tensed and shifted the rifle against his shoulder as the sound came more loudly from the bushes that were grown over what could have been an animal track. A moment later a figure stepped from the foliage and seeing Nazir immediately raised his hands.

"Master Nazir," the young Medjai, barely old enough to be marked, said urgently. "Peace… I bring news."

"Mohammed sent you?" Nazir asked, trying to place the boy's name.

The youngster shook his head. "He does not know I am here, and would kill me if he knew… but the yard of my house here borders on this track, I found it when one of our goats escaped and—"

Nazir cut him off with an impatient shake of his head, and lowered the rifle, beckoning him forward.

"Then he does not know of it," he finished for the boy, and nodded. "You have done well. Now… what news, Hameed, isn't it?"

"Hanad," the boy corrected, "And I heard one of our scouts had ridden in from Cairo. He said that the American and his family have returned."

"O'Connell?" Nazir did nothing to hide the surprised shock in his voice.

Hanad nodded, "Yes, Master, and Mohammed has sent a full patrol of warriors to find them and carry out judgement upon them."

Nazir swore. He knew that Ardeth had not wanted to act against the O'Connell's at all, but had been left with no choice in the face of the scheming and political machinations of the Elders. Ardeth had been forced to do something, and since he had no intention of executing Evelyn for her unwitting part in Nephthys' murder of the Medjai appointed to guard the bells of Isis' sistrum, he had banished them all from Egypt. He had meant to wait until matters calmed among the elders and the tribes, and then rescind the exile, if not pardon the O'Connells entirely. Now though… if Mohammed's men got to them…

"Have I done wrong, Master Nazir, in bringing you this news?" The youngster looked nervous and so Nazir came to put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"No, Hanad, far from it. You have been brave in defying the false Elder in this way. And if I can count on your bravery again, perhaps you can continue to be our agent in the bosom of his cabal."

"Really?" Hanad brightened at the prospect.

"Take no risks. Do nothing that would give you away, but when evening falls each day, find your way along your goat trail to the waterside here." Nazir had a thought then, "But… what of your family?"

"My mother is old, she sleeps early most evening. She will know nothing of it so long as I bring her dinner to her and wait until she sleeps."

"Good then, it is agreed. Go now." Nazir gave him a push back toward the bushes.

He waited until the boy was out of sight before calling a warrior to take his place and explaining to him about Hanad in case the boy returned, then he went back to caverns, and to Rashid's son.

"Rahman," he took his arm and led him away from the other warriors, "there is something I need you to do."

"Nazir?"

"Choose five warriors and swift horses. Take Niraan if you must. The O'Connells have been seen in Cairo and Mohammed has sent a patrol of warriors to kill them. You must go by way of the river and get there first, warn them and protect them. Your uncle would not wish for harm to come to them."

"I understand…" Abdul-Rahman said softly, but with a hint of doubt.

"But?" Nazir prompted.

"Can we afford to send so many warriors?"

"We can send no less against a full patrol and even with O'Connell's skill, you would be hard pressed if it came to a fight."

Rahman nodded. "I will do my best, Sayiidi." He started to go and do as Nazir had bidden him, but then stopped and turned back to him. "And Nazir?"

"Rahman?"

"Have no fear… I will not take your beloved Niraan from your side."

Nazir could not help smiling and chuckling to himself at that. He gave Abdul-Rahman a polite bow, and continued in toward the caverns, to go and bring the news to Meiri and the rest of the family.

* * *

Meren was stricken, and almost tore herself from her mother's grasp as her father pushed them onto the boat and she realised that he was not coming with them.

"Papa!" she cried.

"Meren, no," he squeezed her hand tightly even as the boat began to move, with people still scrambling aboard. "Remember all that I have told you. I will find the Medjai and then I will come to join you."

"But Papa," she tried to scramble again over the low rail and into her father's arms, but her mother held her tightly. She looked beyond him to the fires burning in the city… the mobs barely held back by the city watch, and more worrying still, to the dark shadows that moved across the face of lighted places, barely seen, but the source of many of the terrified screams that punctuated the early evening. She feared that she would never see him again.

"The Prophets, peace be upon them, have given us separate paths to walk for this time, Meren. You must go to find your Star and I must stay to find the Medjai." He spoke urgently, "We _will_ be reunited, for we walk in their shadow, protected. Remember that, and heed your mother well."

"I love you, Anas," her mother threw the words ashore as if she too feared that all he said was mere platitudes and they would never find each other again.

"And I you," he returned, "both of you. Do not leave the boat, whatever you do."

She was forced then to let go of her father's hand as the quayside ended. She watched him until they were out of site, standing with his arm raised high, waving to them… and when she could no longer make out his shadow against the turmoil of the city, she turned and threw herself to the deck, weeping.

* * *

An eerie, silent tension met them as they rode into the streets of Cairo, as if the whole of the city was holding its breath. He turned his head first one way and then the other and saw evidence of fires that had burned in the streets and rubble where walls had been.

"There has been trouble here," Ardeth said aloud, not for any need to inform his Chosen of the obvious, but to settle himself with the sound of his own voice against the silent streets.

Cairo was never so still, so empty and devoid of life. Even the windows of the hotels were boarded over, as if the proprietors had left them or as if they expected attack. For a moment his eyes moved around the streets again, seeking another reason – seeking the vehicles of invading soldiers. He saw nothing… nothing but creeping shadows and wind blown dust and sand.

"To the watch," he ordered and took advantage of the empty streets to urge their horses to a faster pace. They had only two duties to discharge here and they could be on their way once more, back on the trail of those who had taken Suhayl that even now was growing colder. First they must bring to the watch the man that had tried to smother his baby daughter, and had then been the cause of the death of his eldest as she tried to save him, and second they had to bring to the hostel the still terrified girl. He had promised her family that he would bring her here, where she might find help. True he could have taken her to one of the Medjai tribes and to their healers, and she might have fared better under the care of those sacred ladies, but in the present turmoil among the tribes he could not risk the reception he might receive – or even that they might refuse to help.

He glanced over at the girl where she rode stiffly, almost catatonic, held in Nasim's arms. He sighed and shook his head, and then brought them to a halt outside the watch compound.

Dismounting quickly, he grasped the prisoner by the arm and encouraged him from the horse's back. In truth the man offered little resistance and would likely cause the watch no trouble, but perhaps in handing him over to the watch, they could discover what had happened to cause such quiet tension in Cairo. Bringing the man to the Cairo Watch to answer for his crimes might give him the answers he needed.

* * *

Miranda sighed. It was well past dark and the hostel was all but full to overflowing. The unrest in the city, and the mobs that pitted themselves against the officers of the watch meant an increase in injuries. It was late, and she was tired… and even with Oman's promise to the Imam Anas to keep her safe, she did not feel at ease. A storm was coming and she feared it.

She jumped as a pounding at the door echoed through the infirmary halls.

* * *

The tale the watchman had told him had him unsettled. Bad enough that the greeting he was given raised the hairs on the back of his neck, _"Medjai, praise Allah!" _but then the tales of creeping shadows, corpses drained of all moisture, and sudden unexplained deaths, not to mention the rioting and the mobs, it all added up to the kind of trouble that he did not wish to face. He could not help but wonder if they had not found the trail of those that had taken Suhayl after all.

He raised his hand again and pounded on the door of the hostel a second time, then stood back as he heard footsteps on the other side of the door and the scrape of a bolt against its metal housing.

"Yes?" the voice of a man asked cautiously as he opened the door but a crack.

"My name is Ardeth Bay. I bring one who needs assistance from out of the desert."

The door opened a little wider and the man peered out at the Medjai band and the woman that trembled in the arms of one of them.

"Could you not bring her to your own healers, Medjai? The troubles here have left us short of space." he said.

"Our nearest settlement was further still than Cairo, and the dangers in the desert make it unwise to travel with one such as this woman," Ardeth answered. "She needs your help."

"Very well," the man said with a sigh, and standing back opened the door wide. "Bring her inside, take her to the room along the hall, our healer is there."

"Thank you," he said quietly, and taking the unresisting woman by the arm, and followed by Tarek and Emir, he brought the woman into the hostel and toward the door indicated by the man.

As he entered that room, what rational thought he might have possessed a moment before fled from his mind, and all the pieces… the deaths, the shadows, the creatures… and the kidnap of his son… everything fell into place, in horror, as he set eyes on the woman the other man claimed as their 'healer.'

"You!" he cried, and letting go of the young woman in his care, he advanced on the woman of the Cult of Nephthys.

* * *

Miranda looked up at the man, the _Medjai_, as his voice rang out in accusation across the room. Fear gripped her belly. If he was here then someone had finally thought to send for the Medjai… and if they had been summoned then surely she had been blamed as the cause of it all. Shakily she got up from her knees as he started to come toward her and tried to back away. After colliding with several of the small cots on which the wounded lay, she realised he would reach her before she could find a path away from him. Instead she tried to dodge around him, if she could see where she was going perhaps she would have the chance to flee. He caught her before she had taken even two steps.

"Give me back my son!" It was as if she had walked into a huge black wall. The hands that gripped her shoulders were uncompromising in their strength and determination. He shook her slightly_._

Miranda trembled in fear before him, remembering every word, every feeling of these moments as though she had lived them before and the memory of the hated life she had once led flooded through her as the events of the vision the child demon Nebkhat had given to her finally came to pass.

"I cannot," she whispered, fear of him, of it all, stealing her voice. Beyond the meaning of the words she had no idea what he was talking about. She did not know his son, and certainly did not have him.

The only child she had ever had; ever held in her arms she had believed to be hers, and it was that child – that _creature_ – she corrected her own thought, that had brought her such pain and heartache. She only hoped, for the sake of the English woman, that when the Medjai had banished the evil from the temple of Nephthys that it had truly left the child in peace.

"Ardeth…" another of the Medjai approached and spoke quietly trying to calm the man that held her. Omran too approached, his hands open in supplication to the warrior.

"Honoured Medjai," he said softly, "We no longer have any child of the Medjai in this place. The only one we ever had has long since left. He returned to his people with his mother when they were reunited with your warrior brother."

The one called Ardeth obviously found no truth in Omran's words, or perhaps simply ignored him, he was clearly so focussed on the emotions coursing through him.

"You have one day," he shook her again, "before I return. I will raze this place to the ground and everything in it to find my son! Everything… do you understand?"

She understood. The man's son had been taken from him and he believed that she was responsible, but there was nothing she could do. She did not have the child… she did not have _any_ child. The thought left her feeling cold and empty. Useless… she pulled against the relentless grip on her shoulder, but could not break free.

"I cannot give you what I do not have…" she whispered. "That which has never been mine."

The warrior opened his mouth to speak to her again, his grip, perhaps, a little lighter against her shoulder.

Suddenly, behind him, the girl screamed.


	11. A Gathering Storm

Star of the MorningChapter 11

_Floating above his body… he was always floating above his body… always when the nightmare gripped him, but it had been so long that he had thought himself free of it. _

_Crushed hope threatened to choke him as his lips moved, as the creature he had become mimicked his voice._

"_Ardeth?"_

_He watched as Ardeth tensed and pushed his future wife against the obsidian wall of the temple._

"_Stay here," his Medjai friend's voice held a note of mistrust. In silent desperation Jonathan urged him to listen to himself; to trust in his instincts, but as always, Ardeth turned and watched as his light brown head peep timidly from within the alcove._

"_Jonathan…" the relief in the voice was palpable._

"_No, no, no," he whispered wordlessly, squeezing his ethereal eyes tightly._

"How is he?"

Jennifer looked up as Evelyn came quietly into the shared room where Jonathan lay on the couch. Her hand did not cease its gentle caress through his hair even though she gave her attention to her would-be sister in law.

"Resting now, at least," she answered.

Evelyn nodded. "It really _was_ bad, Jenny," she said, "you shouldn't judge him too harshly."

"_Ardeth, old boy, am I glad to see you!" He came out of the alcove then, a wide smile on his visage… apparently shaken, a singular deception. Not for nothing did they name Seth as they did, "There are these… things wandering around."_

_Ardeth smiled as the creature inside him waved his arms vaguely. It was a convincing act – had convinced Ardeth in any case – that the man before him truly was as he appeared._

"_Hundreds of them," his voice was strained as he finished. Why hadn't the Medjai warrior listened?_

_Ardeth started back up the stairs toward him._

"I don't judge him, Evy. I never have," she snapped just a little, and at last letting Jonathan be, she hauled herself to her feet, rubbing first at her back, and then passing a hand over her pregnant belly, a fond smile on her face which faded as she finished, "I know how bad it was for him; what it did to him."

"_I think you exaggerate, my friend," Ardeth said. "My people will have taken many of them out of the camp. We will be safe, you need not worry. Come."_

"_No, really," the creature told the Medjai. "You have no idea how long I've been trying to find the way out of here before I found that little hole, or how bloody glad I am to see you."_

"I'm glad you were there for him," Evy came to her and put an arm around her shoulder, placing her hand on top of where her own lay over the restless child. "I don't know what I would have done without him."

Smiling just a little and with a soft, "Me either," Jenny shifted her hand from beneath Evy's to press the other woman's hand against the place the baby kicked in its movement inside her.

Evy smiled, "I know I've said some things that were uncalled for, Jennifer, but really… you make Jonathan so happy and this baby…"

"I know," Jenny whispered. "He'll love the baby so much."

"Oh he already does," Evy corrected her, "both of you." Without another word about it, Evy drew her into a close embrace.

_Even in the dream, as he had in the moment of it happening, Jonathan fought as the creature moved, to throw a brotherly hug around Ardeth. As he had then, he failed to stop the inevitable passage of destiny._

"_I do. You said alrea—"_

_His hand punched forward, heat bathed his hand as Ardeth's blood spilled over his fingers that held the knife which he turned, twisted upward in an attempt to find the Medjai's heart._

"_Jonathan?" Ardeth's incredulous voice pleaded with him for an explanation._

_He cried out in horror as the memory of every single torment he had suffered flooded through him… the hot blood on his hands… the ashen taste of death in his mouth… the pain in his heart at knowing what he'd done to a friend…_

_He cried out again, but still couldn't wake._

"Jonathan!" Jennifer gasped and pulled herself quickly from Evy's arms as her lover cried out in torment. "I'm here, Jonathan," she sat and quickly began running her fingers through his hair – trying to soothe…

"_Now all is as it should be._" The voice that came from Jonathan's lips was not that of the gentle Englishman whose life she had saved those years before…

"Jenny get away from him!" Jenny was knocked away from him as Evy barrelled into her, sending her tumbling heavily to the floor. Stunned she tried to sit up, only to see Evy almost straddling her brother, slapping him hard around the face while she hauled him from the pillows. "Jonathan! Wake up! Wake up, you have to fight… you have to—!"

Jennifer shuddered as Ancient Egyptian poured from Jonathan's lips and bit back a cry as pain twisted in her heart. How? How could this be? Her heart contracted in another pain, this time from panic. How could she lose him so quickly?

**

She had been a fool, arrogant and careless; heedless of all the signs that must have been around him all the time. She should never have allowed him to come with them to Egypt this time, much less to bring Jennifer.

_Jonathan…_ she could barely even think his name, let alone force it from her lips again. Now it was even more vital that she get everyone to safety, and that they find Ardeth and the Medjai… for if Seth had already become incarnate – which must mean that there was far more going on than they already knew about – then they, as protectors of Egypt and Warriors for God would be the only ones to oppose the eternal gods… their enemies.

"Jenny, go!" Evy managed to call a warning to her, and somehow push her toward the door at the same time, ignoring her protests. Jenny finally gave in and stumbled ahead of her toward the door then finding her balance and holding her arms ahead of her, without looking back, the women, herding the children ahead of them, all but tumbled out of the door and into Rick's surprised arms.

"Honey, whacha doin?" he questioned as he drew her upright, the children around him wailing in fear.

"Jonathan…" she said, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible and find a way to explain, but the words would not come. Instead she said, "We need to leave… now."

"But what about…?" he said.

"He's not Jonathan," she took a deep breath and held in the tears of heartbreak that threatened against Jenny's sudden sob. "Please, Rick."

Rick frowned deeply and pushed her to one side as he threw open the door.

"Wha-- what's going on?" her brother's sleep befuddled voice broke over her like a wave and she turned to see him sitting, looking very confused in the middle of the couch, the blanket a heap around his middle.

"That's what I'd like to know." Rick answered, turning to look at her.

"Evy?" Jonathan's voice appealed to her for an answer she couldn't give. Had she panicked; over-reacted?

Jennifer pushed past her and flew to wrap Jonathan in her arms, to hold him tightly. She watched the colour drain from his face as understanding began to creep over him. He moaned softly.

"It's all right," Jenny whispered against his cheek, and Evy turned away, hearing the words even as she gathered the children into her embrace. "It was just a dream… a bad dream…"

**

Rick held out his arms and then drew Evy into his lap as she returned from putting the children to bed. It had taken some time to get them down after the incident of his brother-in-law's nightmare, if indeed that had been what it was… and the way Jonathan gripped the whiskey tumbler in his hand, he was beginning to wonder.

As if she sensed what he was thinking, Evy looked over at her brother.

"Honestly, Jonathan, I'm sorry… I thought—"

"It's all right, Old Mum," he looked up from the brown depths in which his thoughts were evidently swimming to give a weak smile over toward the both of them, "I _was_ dreaming about that time," he shuddered, "or _remembering_ is probably a better word."

"You were talking in your sleep," Jennifer told him, "that's what scared us."

Jonathan sighed as she ran her fingers through his hair and visibly leaned in to her touch. Rick looked away for a moment, the only way he could give them privacy in their enforced close quarters.

"Well I think," Evy piped in, "that the sooner we find the Medjai, the better."

"Ever the optimist," Jonathan quipped, though without much conviction, it seemed to Rick.

He sighed. "Well," he said on the end of it, "that might take us a little longer than any of us anticipated."

"What do you mean?"

He felt Evy's eyes boring into him and apologetically explained, "The authorities have this place locked down tighter than a miser's wallet. The only way in or out of Cairo is by river, and the next boat doesn't leave until noon."

"But what about the camels?"

"I couldn't _hire_ any camels, Alex," he told his son, "I said… that Cairo authorities won't let anyone out overland. The guy I spoke to said that there's disease and god knows what in many of the inland villages and settlements."

"You don't think—" Evy began, and he could tell from her expression that she feared the Medjai might have fallen to the same evils that oppressed the rest of the country.

"It had crossed my mind, yeah," he said with yet another sigh.

"Nonsense, Old Chum!" Jonathan exclaimed, more cheery that his expression dictated. "Not the Medjai."

**

In spite of himself, Ardeth pulled Miranda in behind him, drawing his blade and adopting a protective stance as he spun round to face the girl, and then more slowly turned in the direction of her horrified stare.

Forming there, creeping over and around the body of a recently deceased patient, the sands of the desert slowly built a leonine form of one of the supernatural warriors of Sekhmet.

In morbid fascination, Omran crept closer to the transforming corpse.

"No!" Ardeth called an urgent warning, "Stay back!"

"What is it?" the hostel worked almost moaned in fear, "damned sand… gets everywhere."

"It is the sand that gives it life." Ardeth told him, "A warrior creature belonging to one of the ancient gods of this place. Sekhmet, the Avenger. She will tear this place apart looking for what she perceives as the evil of man."

"What can we do, Sayiidi?" one of his warriors asked.

"Protect the people. Take her head if she comes close," he ordered, then to Omran he said, "How many more?"

"More what?"

"How many more have died here?"

"Two… no wait, three," he said "three."

"Where are the bodies?" Ardeth looked right and left, trying to spot where they might be.

"There," Omran pointed, his face white with sudden terror replacing the fascination on his face as his hand shook toward the corner of the room, "Over there… we haven't had time to bring them to the authorities for burial."

"Quickly!" Ardeth's returned his focus to the figure transforming before them, "Close the windows… the doors… we have to stop the sand from—"

"Too late, my brother," Tarek whispered, nodding to the corner. Ardeth turned, still keeping Miranda behind him, and there, taller and more powerful than the biggest of warriors he had ever faced, stood three Sisters of Sekhmet.

Even as he looked in their direction, the three opened their fanged mouths and hissed a roar of anger in his direction, before beginning to stalk toward him, clawed hands wielding deadly khopesh.

"What did you do?" He threw the question over his shoulder.

"I don't—" Miranda began, "I didn't—"

"She has done nothing," a new voice from the doorway caught Ardeth's attention. "And in the Name of Allah, Most Merciful and all His Prophets you must defend this woman."

"Imam…" Ardeth acknowledged the man's arrival, if not his authority.

"_Give us… the girl, Medjai,_" The transformation of the last remaining corpse was complete. The Sister of Sekhmet rose from the cot and joined her sisters in stalking toward Ardeth and his charge.

"You heard the Priest," Ardeth challenged, even thought he did not necessarily believe the words he spoke, he continued, "she has done nothing."

"_We do not recognise this man's god_," she said. "_It has no dominion over the Land's of Ra._"

"The girl has done nothing," Ardeth repeated.

"_She is the instrument of the Serpent God and his bitch wife_."

"She was used!" The Imam called from the doorway, "unwilling! All that she seeks to do is to atone for the sins of her past."

"_Death…_"

"…_will cleanse…_"

"…_is the only way…_"

"…_is only the beginning…._"

Each word brought the Sisters of Sekhmet closer. The Medjai warriors drew their blades and moved to defensive positions, each of them between the supernatural creatures and Ardeth.

"No… please!" the woman gripped the back of his robe tightly, the fear tangible in the tremor passing from her body against his spine.

He raised his own blade, ready to defend, needing to know more than he did, and knowing he would have no answers from a dead woman. He had no choice but to defend her.

"Medjai," he commanded, "hona!"

Each of his warriors raised their blades and stepped toward the Sisters of Sekhmet answering his call without question.

One of the leonine warriors swept her long, clawed hand before her, meeting the attack of the Medjai warrior she faced. Caught of balance, a glancing blow with the strongly muscled arm, Emir flew to land heavily, crumpled against the far wall, dazed into immobility.

Tarek and Mahmoud both took advantage of the momentary distraction to launch attacks of their own. Blade met blade in a ringing, spark filled clash as the warriors loyal to Sekhmet answered the attack in a blurring defence of khopesh against scimitar.

Ardeth saw that his Medjai were hard pressed to stand against them. "Heads!" he roared, launching himself forward into the fight, "Take their heads!"

**

Anas stood transfixed by the deadly dance until a soft moan from the side of the room broke the mesmerism over him. He turned his head to see the semi conscious Medjai struggling to pull himself upright. Quickly Anas went to him, offered him what assistance he could.

"Gently now," he pulled out a clean cloth and held it against where the warrior had cut his head on the sill of the window.

"I have to help my brothers," the man argued, trying weakly to push him away.

"You will help no one like this," Anas told him. "You were stunned in the fall, give yourself time."

"The others do not _have_ time. They need me." The Medjai growled.

Glancing over at the fight, Anas found himself hard pressed to argue, but neither could he allow the warrior to throw himself into a needless death if he attempted to fight in his current state.

"You cannot help them if you kill yourself," he said harshly, "look at yourself, Medjai. You are hurt… likely a concussion. I'll warrant you cannot even see clearly."

He felt the Medjai deflate somewhat against his restraining arms.

"Trust in Allah, brother warrior," Anas urged, trying to be a comfort, "pray with me."

**

Ardeth's arms ached, and he fought to keep himself in position between the Sisters of Sekhmet and even with the prayers he could hear he found his mind descending closer and closer into a dark spiralling pit that pulled at him from the sand that lay scattered across the floor.

They'd not even taken a single Sister, despite outnumbering them at least two warriors to one. Already tired from a long and frantic ride, the stress of Suhayl's kidnap weighing heavier still on his heart, it was little surprise that he felt tendrils of despair beginning to wind around his heart.

**

"Ardeth…" Meiri turned her head against the pillow caught between waking and dreaming, beads of perspiration like gemstones against her brow.

"_I warned you…" the voice held such regret that Meiri's heart twisted and tears came to her eyes._

"_Asru…" she called for the other woman as the room spun around her._

"_I warned you of great danger; told you what you must do." The woman gripped her by the forearms, her fingernails digging into her flesh as she shook her and in quiet desperation demanded, "_Why_ do you remain!?"_

"_I cannot leave." Meiri's voice trembled, "My people are here, my children… they need me."_

"_The Son of the son I carry needs you. Needs Usert's blessing and _you_ must be the one to bring it to him." Asru shook her again, "You and no other."_

"_Even if I wanted to," she told her, "The sistrum isn't here."_

"_Only _you_ can give him protection against the rising power of the gods."_

"How?" she demanded, sitting and then pushing herself to stand, and then to move, stumbling, toward the entrance of the cave.

"Meiri?" Ashna sat up from where she slumbered, wrapped around the twins.

"I have to…" she answered Ashna vaguely indicating a need of her body. She knew the other woman watched her as she walked from the cave; knew that her time alone would be short before her sister-wife would come looking for her. She followed her stumbling intuition as her steps brought her to a beach sheltered by thick vegetation.

"How?" she repeated, her voice a soft breath of wind over the water.

"_Call to Her," Asru's otherworldly hand brushed across the back of her neck, sweeping her hair to one side as she all but lay against her back to whisper against her ear, "Summon Her to your heart…"_

Tears came to her eyes. For years, as many years as she had known Ardeth she had resisted calling on the power of Usert. The power of the heritage; the knowledge of the goddess she had denied because Medjai and Usertim could not be.

"I don't know how," she confessed tearfully.

"_Then trust in me…"_

She had no time to answer – felt only the short sharpness of pain as the woman out of time that was her ancestor, and the antecedent of the Medjai line joined with her – Asru became as one with her soul.

**

"_Tired Medjai?_"

Ardeth growled, refusing to let the supernatural creature he battled taunt him. It did not matter how tired she was, he would prevail. He had to.

"_Doesn't this prove to you, Beloved of Isis, that you are wrong to defend this woman? Even your divine strength has flown you… passed you by._"

"The girl is innocent!" he growled, and to his surprise, found that he believed the words this time. Whatever crimes this woman _had_ committed, she was not the one that had commanded Suhayl be taken from him. The realisation strengthened his resolve, lent strength to his failing arms… though not enough… and nothing that would help his warriors.

Growling, he came on, renewed in his fight.

**

"Har-ya Usert, all that I am… my breath, my body… my soul… come to me, daughter of you heart."

Arms raised high toward the starlit, moonless sky Meiri stepped into the shallows at the edge of the oasis. As her naked feet touched the water the stars began to move in the sky, swirling and spiralling until it left her feeling dizzy, nauseous and faint. She swayed and took another step.

"All that I am," her voice lower… resonant against the surface tension of the water called out into the night, "my breath… my body… my soul… come to me, daughter of your heart. Har-ya Usert!"

The stars dipped, one by one, like falling molten light toward the water, toward where her steps carried her. She felt began to feel weightless in her dizziness, step by step advancing on the light filled water.

"My breath," the air came out of her in an almost ecstatic sigh, "my body… my soul… come to me, daughter of your heart. Har-ya Usert, all that I am!"

Onward she walked, her footsteps barely disturbing the mercurial ripples of silver on the water. Her flesh, her raised arms began to take on the same silver sheen as she stepped into the pool of light… aroused by the mere breath of the wind, weightless as though she could touch the very sky from which the stars descended.

"My body… my soul… come to me, daughter of your heart. Har-ya Usert, all that I am, my breath."

She lowered her arms, palm forward, fingertips reaching for the water that waited, poised beneath her feet. Water of Life… _Her_ life, given to the barren desert.

"My soul, come to me, daughter of your heart. Har-ya Usert, all that I am – my breath, my body…"

Everything spun around her, nothing made sense except the terrible, dislocated feeling… she was everywhere and nowhere… could see everything and nothing.

"Come to me, daughter of your heart. Har-ya Usert, all that I am – my breath, my body, my soul!"

Heat… Light… Eternity pulsed through her veins, rushing through her hard and fast as she cried out.

"Har-ya! Come!"

**

Barely asleep, the sudden scream made Ashna sit upright with a cry of her own. Instantly she looked over toward Meiri's bed, and seeing it empty she threw back her blanket, and raced for the entrance to the cave system and out to the sands beside the oasis water.

Skidding to a halt, she desperately tried to run back the way she came, to call for help – Sharrad, Nazir, anyone – to help her bring Meiri back from where she flailed in the deepest part of the waters.

"Nazir!" She screamed; shrill against the night, and hardly caring that the sound would carry, before without a thought to her own weakness, she began to wade into the frigid water.

**

_The universe turned around her as she faced the terrible might of the golden, shining goddess Usert._

"_Priestess…"_

"_Goddess… Mother… Usert…"_

"_Speak."_

"_He needs…" The swirling stars coalesced into the vision of him locked in combat, fierce and desperate, and sudden fear for him stabbed at her, stealing all her strength._

"_I have never left him." Usert's fingers played through her hair, "what makes you believe I would do so now? I am the life… the water in heat of the desert that sustained him through his trials at manhood. I am the light… the love in the depth of winter that brought you to him… my Husband… my son… why would I desert him now?"_

"_Then…?" Meiri tried to turn, to keep the circling goddess in sight._

"_I will be protection against the rising power of the gods, for him… for _all_ the faithful."_

"_Then why…?"_

_Usert's voice was a terrifying whisper as she faced Meirionnydd and took her hands. "You and I… we are one… have always been and now will always be. Once… the others gave us aid, support against the Lord of Chaos, Lord of darkness now. Soon… they will demand… payment."_

"_Anythi—"_

_Usert's cool touch against her lips cut her off. "Do not speak so hasty, daughter…"_

_Meiri shook her head, moved her mouth from behind the goddess' hand. "It doesn't matter. Anything. Save them. Save _him_!"_

"_Loss…? To be alone…? Even… death…?"_

"_Yes," Meiri whispered, "Even that."_

_Usert walked around her again and Meiri stood, weeping a silent farewell to all that had been before that moment; weeping in acceptance of her destiny._

"_So be it, brave daughter." Usert leaned down to gently kiss her lips. "One last time, breathe my breath… speak with my voice… bring me… to life in that one… last… death."_

**

Under the sudden onslaught of blows from the warrior he battled, Ardeth slipped, one leg giving out beneath him and he was forced to roll aside as the heavy khopesh came down beside his head. He fought to try and regain his feet, but the floor beneath him was slick with sand and all he could do was barely manage to keep the blade from slicing into his skull.

A sudden flash of light all but blinded him. He raised his hand to shield his eyes from the radiance that seemed now to be racing around him. Perhaps he had missed the parry. Perhaps the blade was even now slicing toward his heart and this was what death was like…

"_I go round about thee to protect thee, O brother Osiris. I have come to be a protector unto thee_."

The words had a strangely singsong, achingly familiar tone that struck his heart both with love and loss together. A breeze, gentle as a morning, swept the sand that kept him prone from beneath his feet.

"_My strength shall be near thee…_"

Power surged back into his tired limbs and he thrust himself up from the floor of the room. "Now, my warriors," he called authoritatively, "take them now!"

"_My strength shall be near thee… for ever._"

**

Almost frantic, Nazir turned Meiri again and pressed against her back… willing the water out of her lungs.

"Bring Asiya!" he paused only long enough to push Ashna, exhausted as she was, to send her scrambling back toward the cave, before turning Meiri once more to her back, and leaning down to breathe as into her mouth.

"Breathe!" he gasped as he came upright once more, to press against her chest. "Meirionnydd, BREATHE!"

**

"_Ra hath heard thy cry and the gods have made my word to be truth. Thou art raised up… Thy foes are overthrown, and thou art Horus_."

Growling in rage, the Sisters of Sekhmet paused in their assault on the Medjai, and to a man the warriors took full advantage of their hesitancy.

"Fight, my warriors!" Ardeth called and launched himself forward, his blades blurring in the fading light as an intense silence and darkness began to descend on the room as the candles dimmed. The Sisters' resistance was stilted, weak at best and soon the silence was broken by the hissing fall of sand as one by one, he and his warriors took the heads from the supernatural warriors, who fell to piles of barely glowing golden sand in the darkness until even that crept from the room, as though licking its wounds.

Ardeth could barely see, hurt and still holding his breath, waiting to see if the battle were truly at an end; praying that it was.

"_Trust in my love._"

The words echoed round and around in Ardeth's brain. He hadn't moved. He hadn't breathed and now that the sand had gone, blown away on a non-existent breath of air, all the lights had faded, adding to the tension in the room.

"_I have always been with you, my warrior._"

The aches in his arms and from his wounds faded and then were gone and the blue of his tattoos seemed to shine in the darkness where they were exposed on the back of his hands, and on his cheeks and forehead.

"Isis," he whispered, "Divine Mother…"

"_As I have always told you, I am the beauty and life in the green oasis, the white moon among the stars that gives light on the darkest night; she that is with you; who watches over you but is apart from you. Trust…_"

"I do not—"

"_The path… is set. The Journey… is written._"

The voice of Isis faded from his mind, like that of someone passing from life, and with its fading, the candles once more flickered into life. Light stabbed at his eyes, filling them with stinging tears that matched those of the sudden feeling of loss that flowed into his heart. A trembling started in his legs and he stumbled toward one of the cots, meaning to sit. Suddenly he was fighting for breath, almost panicked as his head started to spin and he watched the floor slowly coming up to meet him.

**

"Supposing we do that?" Jennifer asked him after obviously contemplating Rick's plan to go by river-boat, and then jump ship just as soon as they were far enough from Cairo to avoid the authorities. "What then?"

"Then we—" he stopped, and held up his hand to stop the others from asking questions. The soft sound came again, nothing obvious, and it would probably have been missed by anyone else, but Rick was used to the unexpected happening around him, and listening for the slightest warning clue had become second nature to him. After a moment or two of listening he beckoned to Evy to come away from the patio windows. At the same time he pulled his pistols from his canvass weapon roll.

As she came to him he pointed to the far corner of the room, and carefully flattened himself against the wall beside the window he'd drawn her from. He nodded as Jonathan took out his own small weapon, and gathered Jennifer close.

"Dad!" Alex hissed at him, and when he looked over, Alex raised his eyebrows at him meaningfully glancing toward the adjacent bedroom, where the younger children slept. After only a moment or two of frowning thought, he checked the safety on one of the pistols and tossed it to Alex.

"Rick…" Evy started to protest.

"Not now, Honey," he said softly as Alex crossed the room to slip silently into the children's bedroom.

Barely a moment after his eldest son had closed the door behind him a slow creaking movement of the handle on the patio door drew his attention back to the room's defence. At least it was human, for which he thanked heaven for small mercies. The supernatural in this place seemed to have little use for door. However that did not rule out trouble.

With the current unrest in Cairo there were any number of other dangers it could be. Robbers, bandits… He gripped his gun more tightly as the patio door began to slowly open and on the incoming breeze the corner of a dark swath of fabric blew in through the opening door.

Medjai…

As soon as he could, and hoping that the element of surprise would lend him the strength he needed, Rick grabbed the incoming figure and dragging him fully into the room began to charge toward the nearest solid wall, the pistol underneath the man's chin.

"O'Connell… peace!" the Medjai warrior raised his hands and offered no resistance.

"Abdul Rahman?"

"Aiwa," the warrior answered, and he began to let go, "Yes. I am come at the behest of Nazir to warn y—"

At the mention of another warrior than Ardeth, Rick slammed the man back against the wall and once more pressed the pistol under the Medjai's chin.

"Please…! O'Connell, allow me time to explain…"

"Talk quickly!" he ordered, not letting up the pressure from the pistol one little bit.

"Ardeth is on a mission of great importance. He has left Nazir in charge…"

"Nazir…?" Rick frowned, but walked away, letting the warrior compose himself. "The horse master?"

"Aiwa… the Horse Master of First Tribe is third in line of command."

"What happened to Rashid?"

"O'Connell, it is a long story." Abdul Rahman sighed and Rick did not miss the sad tone in his voice.

"I think maybe you better sit down," he gestured to one of the couches with his pistol, "and tell me everything."

Rahman shook his head, but sat anyway. "My father has been mortally wounded in trying to battle against those who kidnapped Suhayl. Ardeth searches for them even now. It is why he cannot be here to speak with you himself."

Rick waved at him to continue, before going out onto the balcony and looking down into the darkened street below, where he knew there must be other Medjai waiting though he could not see them.

Returning, and since the Medjai had not continued he said, "So Nazir sent you to bring us to your Oasis."

Abdul Rahman shook his head.

"No? What do you mean no?"

"If I bring you to Al-Kharga, I bring you to certain death. The Elder Mohammed has rallied a good portion of the Medjai against Ardeth and attempts to overthrow him as First Medjai. Even now he has sent his own warriors here to Cairo to carry out judgement on you for returning to Egypt."

"What's going on?" Alex' voice piped up as he led a rather sleepy looking Sam into the room, followed by an equally somnambulant Kat.

"I think we're in trouble." Rick told him absently.

"Nazir sent me with a patrol of warriors to ensure your safety. To protect you until—"

Faster than Rick would have thought possible Abdul Rahman spun round and had his blade in his hand and ready to fight as two figures came in through the open patio.

"Captain Khalifah…" Rahman relaxed once he saw they were his own men, but not for long against the announcement. "They are here."

Barely had the words left his warrior's lips than the door to the suite burst open and first one and then another Medjai warrior rushed in.

"We're in trouble!" Rick repeated to Alex as Evy screamed, and the two Medjai loyal to Ardeth Bay swept forward to meet the false warriors.

"Go!" Rahman ordered as he pushed past him, "Take your family and get them out of here! We will follow." Rick hesitated. "Go!"

**

Ardeth sighed softly as the Imam Anas finished his tale. As the story had unfolded it became clearer to him that whatever was happening in the desert was connected somehow with the disappearance of his son, and likely with the trouble among the Medjai. It truly chilled his blood to think that any among the Medjai, for _any_ reason, could stoop to ally themselves with such evil.

"I understand that it is hard to accept, First Medjai," Anas said softly, "but everything I have seen and heard in my meditations, every word I have received from the Prophets, peace be upon them, every vision that my daughter has relayed to me, all lead me to the conclusions as I have explained to you."

Ardeth nodded slowly, "Then it is no longer a simple matter of finding those who took my son."

"Sadly… no." Anas agreed.

"And we cannot remain here," he added, looking up to include Miranda in those he meant must move.

"I… I can't go with you," she stuttered fearfully, "I—"

"You have no choice," he said, trying not to sound cold. "The things that are occurring here revolve around something that was done to you when you were a part of the Cult of Nephthys. If someone has somehow reawoken those forces, we will likely need your help. You have no choice but to come with us." He paused and then turned to Anas, "You too, Imam."

"I will come, gladly. I have sent my daughter and my wife out into the desert, to the fort of the Christians, but I doubt that will keep Meren in place."

Ardeth frowned. "Surely your daughter would heed her father."

Anas shook his head, "It is not that she would not heed me, First Medjai, but that she seeks to find one who comes to her in her visions. The two have become somehow connected, and perhaps have some task to perform that only the Prophets can reveal."

Ardeth got to his feet and began to ready himself for the journey back into the desert still listening to Anas even as he gave the order to his men to find suitable desert wear for the woman and the Priest.

"In the last of her visions there was some kind of warning… some kind of danger he…" he paused and Ardeth glanced his way, saw his eyes full of remembrance.

"Omran," he took the opportunity to give instructions to the one that he must leave behind to guard those at the hostel. "If you lose anyone else, do not wait… burn the bodies at once. Try to keep the sand from coming inside."

"Aiwa, First Medjai."

"She fears for him," Anas said at last, with a sigh, "her Star of the Morning."

Ardeth spun around to stare in mounting horror at the Imam. The distance between them seemed to stretch, to elongate until the room, chilled, was almost twice as long.

"Suhayl…" he whispered as Anas looked and they locked gazes, "my son."

**

Rick peered over the edge of the balcony, down toward the sounds of metal against metal that came from below, and realised they were caught between two fights. Quickly he looked round for an alternative escape route. The adjacent balcony was not so far. If they could get across to it there was a pipe, and the corner of the building that they could use as a ladder of sorts to reach the ground, but the jump would be too far for the children… and perhaps for Jennifer, heavy as she was with child. Still… it was the only way.

"Jonathan!" he called and nodded to the next door balcony.

His brother-in-law nodded and set off at a run toward the low railing. Rick protested, and then winced as Jonathan launched himself from balcony to balcony, barely reaching the other side. It wasn't what he'd intended at all. Now he had to make the best of it.

"Alex… you go next. Help your uncle. We'll throw Sam and Kat to you."

Alex nodded, and as his uncle had done set off at a run for the balcony. His vault was by far the more athletic and Rick found himself suddenly appreciating the value for money of private education.

"Nice one, partner," he smiled as Jonathan clapped Alex on the back. This might just work.

Aware that time was growing shorter by the moment he scooped Sam up into his arms and ran to the edge of the balcony. Before Evy could protest he launched his son through the air toward Jonathan and Alex.

Evy screamed, and buried her face in his shoulder. She need not have worried as Jonathan easily caught the young boy and handed him to his brother. Easing Evy away from him, Rick turned to pick up Kat. She was older… heavier…

"Evy, you have to help me."

"Rick I can't I…"

"With two of us there's no _way_ she'll fall short." He fixed her with a meaningful, but loving gaze. "Arm and leg each…"

"Leg and a wing," Evy whispered.

"Yeah," he said, equally as quietly and leaned in to give his wife a desperate kiss. Together then held their daughter, swung her between them as they stood on the edge of the balcony.

Katharine laughed as she sang the rhyme with them, "Leg and a wing to please the King with a one… two…"

"Three!" Rick called and he and Evy let go of Kat at the apex of the swing sending her tumbling through the air toward Jonathan who waited with open arms. She hit him with such force that the two of them fell backwards to the concrete floor of the balcony next door. Rick turned and wrapped his arms around Evy, squeezing her tightly. "You next."

She shook her head. "We go together," she told him, "always."

**

Ardeth turned his head slightly as he felt the movement beside him. Tarek reached out the help him, fastening one of the buckles between saddle and rifle sling.

"Where will we go with them, brother?" he asked softly as he stroked his fingers over the soft side of Marhana's neck. "Taking us all out to the desert sands is all well and good but there is no more safety there than in any other place we have been."

"Ninth." Ardeth answered simply, his voice clipped. He knew Tarek was speaking truth but did not need to be reminded of the danger they all faced; did not need to hear of all the troubles and trials of the land and the peoples he was sworn to protect.

"And risk that Tamim remains loyal to Mohammed?"

"It is a risk we will have to take!" Ardeth raised his voice and, straightening up from tightening the girth strap fixed Tarek with an uncompromising stare. More apologetically he continued, "There are records in the vaults of Ninth Tribe that I must consult. My own knowledge…" he shook his head as his voice trailed off.

"I do not mean to anger you, Ardeth, only to voice the worries I have in my heart."

Ardeth put his hand onto his brother-in-law's shoulder. "I know, Tarek. And I promise you, if it is in my power I will return you safely to my sister's arms." He sighed then, wondering if it were a promise he would be able to keep. "But this is greater than all of us… these troubles embody the words of our vows as Medjai warriors. To protect those in need, and to keep the lands of Egypt safe as we have vowed we need to use every resources we have to hand. And if that means I must battle with my own Commanders, to make them see the true nature of the viper they nestle at their bosom, then I will do so, or what chance do we have?"

"What chance _do_ we have," Anas joined the two warriors, his gaze firmly fixed on Ardeth, "When the ancient gods of this land choose our world, our lives as their battle ground?"

Ardeth nodded, warming still further to this strange Imam. "You speak truly, my friend."

"I have felt it rising for some time, First Medjai. I have tried to shield the ones I care for, and the ones I love from it all, but I fear my efforts were in vain, since I did not understand the nature of my own daughter. She has seen the cursed creatures that stalk the woman," he nodded over toward Miranda, "and because of them we must be on our guard wherever we go, but I pray you do no blame her, for she suffers also. If you knew of her life…"

"I know only what she once was, Imam," Ardeth sighed and leaned against his horse, which shifted nervously, "Priestess in a sect that worshiped the dark aspect of the goddess Nephthys, sought to bring her, and her evil husband Seth into this world. That she has turned her back on that is commendable but," he gestured around them, "it would seem, too late."

"Even if," Anas put a hand onto his arm, "one closes the door to the stable after the horse has bolted, does it not prevent the others from escaping? Does it not mean that once the horse is returned, he will be safely contained?"

He left him then, turning to go back to the woman they were speaking of, who stood with her arms wrapped around herself in fear. Ardeth sighed and looked over to her, watching for a moment, his mind awash in all the many factors they would face in trying to bring peace once more to the desert.

"Brother," Tarek's soft voice broke in on the darkness in his thoughts, "we must ride. It is many leagues to Ninth Tribe."

Ardeth turned and gave him a smile. "You are right, my brother." He clapped Tarek on the shoulder. "Have the woman ride with Ismin. Let the priest ride where he will. Perhaps on our journey we can acquire new horses so that the burden will not be so great."

**

Jennifer hugged the wall as she teetered on the top of the balcony railing. It wasn't so far to jump, but it may as well have been a vast chasm. Her balance was all wrong, and it was so high…

"It's just a big step, Jenny. You can do it." Rick stood on the opposite railing, waiting to catch her.

"I can't," she wailed, and then started and held the wall more tightly as a gunshot sounded from the room behind her.

"There's no more time, you _have_ to jump!" Evy called, running from where she was watching Alex and Jonathan carry the children down to the ground of the narrow street to the railing beside her husband.

"I got it, Evy," Rick said to her, "You go down to the others."

She watched as Evy, glaring at her husband just once, ran to obey… watching for a moment longer as she began to scramble between the drainage pipe and the corner of the building. Jenny took a deep breath as she watched courage lend her would be sister-in-law strength. Evelyn was right there was no more time, she had to jump, but she simply couldn't. She yelped as a black clad figure hopped up on the railing beside her.

"We will go together, Sayiida," Abdul Rahman took her arm in one hand and put his arm around her back, drawing her away from the wall. He continued softly, "Mrs O'Connell speaks the truth. Mohammed's men are right behind us, but trust me. I will not let you fall."

She did not have the chance to debate the matter with him. The pressure of his arm across her back began to tip her forward. She had one choice, jump or fall, and with a scream of terror she threw herself the long step across the gap between the balconies.

**

As soon as he could, Rick caught hold of Jennifer's flailing arms, pulling hard to make sure that she would not fall short.

A single shot rang out; echoing across the street… the whine of a ricochet was followed by the sickening sound of a scream.

"Evy!" Rick let go of Jennifer and turned to watch in horror as Evelyn tumbled from where she held against the building, climbing down. "No!"

Suddenly released, Jennifer began to topple backwards, her foot slipping from the balcony rail and as best he could, Rahman kept a hold of her, but he too was starting to slip.

"O'Connell!" he called, grabbing the railing with one hand and keeping the other wrapped around Jennifer's shoulder, under her arm, the two of them dangling precariously from the railing.

Jennifer screamed, and dug her fingers, claw like, into his arm.

"O'Connell!" he called again and this time the American leaned down to help. The two of them worked to pull the woman to safety. Behind them the sound of battle erupted out onto the balcony. "Hurry."

The three of them raced toward the other side of the balcony, to where the pipe and the corner would allow them to climb down. Jennifer's face once more paled in fear.

Thinking quickly, Rahman began to unwind his Indigo from around his shoulders, and to remove the sash from his waist. He tied them together and made a foot sized loop in one end.

"I will lower you down."

"It isn't long enough," she argued, almost in tears.

"My men below will catch you at the end."

"No," she wailed.

"Yes," he commanded. "It is the safest way for you and the child you carry. Now do as I say!"

Rick raised an eyebrow at the young man, but said nothing. Only came to help him with the makeshift rope.

**

Ardeth frowned as the sound came again, and this time he was certain that it was gunfire. He glanced at Emir and saw that he too had reached the same conclusion. In an unspoken agreement the small Medjai band turned their horses in the direction of the sound. Those carrying passengers on the backs of their horses fell back to the rear of the party as they thundered toward the battle.

He knew he should have been surprised, even shocked when he rounded the corner of the narrow street and saw O'Connell pinned down behind a water butt by the warriors in front of him, but he wasn't. It made perfect sense to him that O'Connell should be in Cairo, given the troubles.

"Yallah!" he called out as he urged Marhana forward toward the warriors, undoubtedly sent by Mohammed against his friends. His sudden cry distracted the warriors, who turned to face the incoming danger and fell quickly to unconsciousness against the sudden assault.

**

As the gunfire ceased, Rick ran quickly to where Evy lay, propped against the wall, with Jonathan fussing at her side.

"Rick," she whispered as he reached her.

"Evy, I—"

"I'm all right. It's just a graze… and I'm a little winded from the fall, but I'm fine," she told him, and gripped his arm. "We have to get out of here."

"No, you rest. Catch your breath."

"Mrs O'Connell is right," Rahman came behind him, leading horses he had taken from the unconscious warriors. "Our First Medjai is heading to the desert, and to Ninth tribe. It would be best if we went with him."

Rick looked up at Abdul Rahman. He didn't want to think about Ardeth right now, but what the younger Medjai said, _did_ make sense. Getting out of Cairo seemed the better way to keep safe, and presumably wherever they were going would be loyal to his one time friend. Finally he nodded and started to help Evy to her feet and onto the back of a horse.

He knew that sooner or later he would have to deal with the fact of seeing Ardeth again, but right now the sudden flight into the desert lent a welcome delay to that moment.

**

Cairo was a good distance behind them before Ardeth slackened the pace of the ride. He led the band without turning around, trusting in his subordinates to ensure that the O'Connells and the others were safe. He knew that sooner of later he would have do deal with his feelings on seeing them again; seeing Rick again, and facing Evelyn, knowing how badly he had betrayed them both, and he could not imagine how he would begin to make reparation for that terrible day…

_She moved closer and straddled him, leaned down and breathed hot kisses against his neck. She pressed herself against him whispering words of passion, words of power to awaken him to life… words of an ancient power… of an ancient and forbidden love._

_He gasped, feeling the intensity of it rising in him. He felt as though he was drowning, fighting to breathe, fighting against the strength gathering in his limbs… drowning until he moved his hand, lifting his fingers to bury them in her long hair and guide those torturous kisses toward his lips._

_She teased him, moving away, resisting his kisses and keeping the heat of her waters away from the need she had kindled in him._

_He wrapped his arm around her waist and rolled over, so that he was over her, so that he could claim her as the power demanded, as he knew she wanted. His dark curls fell over her face, and he gave himself to her in the wake of the passionate emotion that consumed him._

_A gasp and the arms around him became tense for all of a heartbeat, before they relaxed, before they pulled him again toward her and she moaned as he claimed her, joining with her in unmatched fiery passion. He possessed every inch of her body until they were dizzy with it – drunk on shared touch, and on the force that moved them both… powerless against the pulse of his life inside them._

"Osiris and Nephthys…" he whispered.

"First Medjai?" Abdul Rahman had ridden up beside him as he was lost in the terrible memory of what he had done, even if he had not been himself. A shiver passed over his spine as he wondered, not for the first time, if Evelyn remembered as he did… if O'Connell knew…

He shook his head, "Thinking aloud. What is it?"

"The others are tiring," his nephew told him, "and we are far from Cairo. It should be safe to make our camp."

Ardeth nodded, "Of course. Forgive me for driving us all so hard."

Holding up his hand he drew the band to a halt in the lee of a rocky outcropping. "We will make our camp here and take our rest," he explained to them all, and without waiting for agreement or dissent, he pulled his small saddle pack from its place and began to move to a space where he could erect his shelter.

A hand gripped his shoulder and spun him around. He found himself face to face with the friend he had been forced to banish from the deserts of Egypt.

"O'Connell," he began, but whatever else he might have said was driven from his mind as the balled fist connected heavily with the side of his jaw.


	12. Take Care of Him

**Star of the Morning**

Chapter 12

"O'Connell," Ardeth gasped, part in question as he stumbled backwards from the blow that left him reeling.

"You…" the American snapped, coming on again with his fists raised, "you…"

"Rick…" Evy warned.

"Please, O'Connell, this is not the way." He raised his arms to defend himself, blocking first one and then another blow.

"Suppose you tell me what _is_!" O'Connell spat back, the sarcasm heavy in his voice, "Tell me what _you_ would do… if you were in _my_ shoes."

"Stop it!" Evy tried again to interject.

He opened his mouth to reply, but was forced to duck as another roundhouse came his way. His own anger rose in his chest – all of this could have been avoided – he was not the only one to blame. Of themselves his fists lashed out, catching O'Connell a glancing blow, and missing the second time as the American ducked beyond his reach.

"Execute the adulterers… stone the woman!" O'Connell spat.

The blood drained from Ardeth's entire body, into his boots and his stomach and heart twisted in knots. To hear it all so plainly spoken, and in anger…. Somehow he'd held out the brief hope that this had not been about the incident at the temple; that his friend had been spared the pain of knowing what had happened. He glanced at Evelyn, for if O'Connell knew then she must remember. She was standing, trembling with anger, her mouth open as if she were searching for words.

"Oh so you _do_ know what I'm talking about!" O'Connell flew for him again, catching him a glancing blow against the shoulder, which he returned, even as he tried to pull the punch. He lashed out again, pain and anger – mostly at himself – driving him. His fist landed squarely against O'Connell's jaw. The man backed up and spat a mouthful of blood onto the churned up sand. The next words, when they came were choked and full of anguish. "At least you have the balls not to deny it!"

When O'Connell swung for him again, this time he put up no resistance. The American's upper cut connected hard against the left side of his jaw and he fell backwards onto the sand.

"O'Connell, please…" He tried very hard to calm himself, not to enflame the situation any further, but inside he was seething with the hurt of his friends part in what had happened, "you must know—"

"That you were not yourself? That it wasn't your fault, you were possessed?" O'Connell's voice was full of desperation, as if he wanted the words to be true, as if begging him to confirm the truth that he so obviously feared was a lie. "Get up! Get up and face me like a man!"

"Stop it!" As if she couldn't stand it any more Evy ran forward to put herself between him and O'Connell, pressing a hand against his chest to keep her husband in place.

"I swear to you," he said breathlessly, "I had no knowledge of what I had done… what we did until—"

"Stop it, _both_ of you!" Evelyn cut him off. "Don't you think _I_ might have feelings about this? Get up, Ardeth!"

Slowly he obeyed, his limbs heavy, his own blood, from the split to his lip tasted ashen in his mouth.

"Evelyn, I—"

Without warning she turned to him and slapped him hard across the cheek.

"How _dare_ you!" she cut him off again, and he almost bowed his head in acceptance of her punishment, before she confused him completely as she continued, "My mother was Egyptian, how _dare_ you cut me of from my maternal home; from everything that could have protected my family!"

"Evy, I—" O'Connell started to speak. Once again Evelyn turned, this time to slap her husband across the face.

"And you! How _dare_ _you_." She shook off his arms as he reached for her. "Did you think I wanted this? What did you think; that I lied to you when I told you what had happened? That I _wanted_ it; wanted _him_?"

"You should have _told_ me!" Ardeth interjected and though part of him was inordinately relieved to hear her reject him in such a way, still he hurt.

"What?!"

Both Evelyn and O'Connell rounded on him, disbelief and outrage clear on their faces.

"When Evelyn suffered after the birth of your daughter, the daughter you believed stillborn, you should have_ told _me. All of this – the deaths, what happened between us at the temple, the exile," his voice was rising with his temper at his injured pride, "all of it could have been avoided if you had _confided_ in me the way that friends _do._"

"It wasn't anyone else's _business_!" Evelyn coloured in shame as she threw the words at him as though they were daggers.

"I was your _friend_!" he implored them both. "And yet you told me _nothing_!"

"Didn't you hear what she just said?" O'Connell shouted back.

Ardeth stepped up to him, leaning right into his face as he growled, "Or perhaps that only applies when it suits _you_."

"Now just a minute—" O'Connell bristled at the accusation and leaned in closer, his fists beginning to rise as though he would make another attack.

In spite of Evelyn pushing against them both, trying to separate them he continued, "When you could use me, use my people – Ardeth the simpleton, Ardeth the fool, Ardeth the—"

"Daddy!"

A brief commotion caught his attention at the corner of his vision, and he turned his head slightly to watch as Jonathan lost control of a wriggling toddler, who then raced across the sand toward where he stood faced off against O'Connell.

As the boy came closer – his light olive skin; dark curly hair – Ardeth's entire existence swam in a downward spiral. His blood felt like molasses and the air he tried to breathe like soup.

"Evelyn…" he gasped, and she seemed to deflate; wither like a plucked rose in the desert heat.

O'Connell leaned down and picked up the boy as he reached them, holding him tightly, cradling him as a precious thing in his arms, before he looked over at Ardeth and said soft and sadly, "Now you know."

The boy turned in O'Connell's arms and looked at him. Deep brown eyes, inquisitive and open, bore into him and stole what little breath, what little strength he had remaining. Here was a greater betrayal yet to their friendship than not letting him help in their troubles of before.

"Essam," Evelyn said softly. "His name is Essam."

"Sam," the boy said, correcting his mother. "I's Sam."

A pain so deep he had no hope of finding a way to heal it stabbed through his heart. He had to leave, walk away, find some perspective at least, if nothing more. Everything inside of him hurt.

**

"Ardeth!" Evy called after Ardeth as he suddenly turned and all but force-marched himself away from them. She turned too, meaning to go after him. He couldn't leave like this… after this…

Rick's hand closed around her arm. "Let him go," he said softly, his voice full of regret.

"But—" she argued.

"The man needs his privacy," he said, and his gaze passed over her head to the retreating figure of the Medjai warrior.

Suddenly she burst, "How _could_ you, Rick?!"

"I'm sorry," he shook his head, "I couldn't help it. I saw him and just… couldn't get it out of my head, thinking of the two of you… what you'd done, I just… I needed to hear him say it. To know it was the same for him and—"

"Suddenly my word's not good enough?" she snapped.

"No, it isn't that at all," he said and put a hand onto her shoulder, "I believe you. I trust you, just… Ardeth he… he's different than us, Evy, he—"

"Oh so just because he already has two wives you think he'd take anyone he wanted; wander round his friends, a cuckoo, not caring the consequences?"

"No!" his tone was imploring, begging her to understand, "It just… hurts, Evy. You're my wife and I love you and—"

"What's a cuckoo, Daddy?" Sam asked innocently.

"It's a bird," she answered before Rick could speak.

"One that lays its eggs in other birds' nests." The words she hadn't wanted to be spoken tumbled out of Rick's mouth none the less.

"Rick!" she snapped turning her back on him, feeling herself possessed of a sudden chill. Behind her he sighed and stepped closer.

"I'm sorry, Evy." He wrapped his free arm around her and drew her back against the warmth of his chest. "It's just… hard, all of this. I love you. Both of you… all _three_…" she felt him shake his head, and turned to see him gazing out over the sand, over the rise past which their friend had disappeared. "I can't help that I'm angry, but it doesn't change the way I feel about any of you."

"What about Ardeth?" she asked softly.

"Later," he said quietly, almost wistful, "we'll talk to him later, when we've all had a chance to calm down."

**

Even after so many years, even the heat of the desert had not dried the temple steps, which remained as slick and covered in the putrid slime of all the blood spilled in the name of the temple's evil patron as though it had happened only yesterday. Suhayl shuddered and pulled his worn robes more tightly about him, narrowing his eyes and trying to close his ears to the insipient whisper of temptation that flittered around him, as moths to a flame in the dark.

"What do you want with me?" he whispered, unable to shut them out completely.

"Ah but, my little Medjai," Salak answered, mistakenly thinking the question was aimed at him, "if we told you, it wouldn't be a surprise."

As Salak moved closer and reached out for him, Suhayl pulled away, and almost slipped, steadying himself with a hand against the obsidian wall which burned him at his touch even though the rock beneath his hand was cool, almost cold.

"There is evil here," he said and Salak laughed.

"There is _power_ here boy," Jaranas corrected, grabbing him by the collar of his robe and all but dragging him down the last few steps. "A power I mean for you to awaken."

"I won't help you," he answered with as much defiance as he could inject into his voice.

"You will do as you are told, or I will leave you to the tender mercies of my friend here," Jaranas virtually threw him to the assassin, and at Salak's touch against him what small semblance of control Suhayl maintained evaporated under the weight of fear he felt of this man… a fear that was only surpassed by that which he felt for the Abomination that walked, apparently lost in some kind of personal meditation up ahead.

"Let me _go_!" he cried, "Don't _touch_ me… not any more… not again!"

"I told you not to play too hard," Anck-Su-Namun turned to Salak with a frown on her face. "Salak, if you have hurt the boy… destroyed his innocence—"

"My lady," Salak fawned, and set Suhayl back on his own feet. "You have my word. I promised to wait, and wait I have, and will, until such time you no longer need that part of his soul."

"Come to me, little nephew," she purred, ignoring Salak, and holding out a hand to Suhayl. "There is something I wish to show you."

In an obedience born of his terror, Suhayl forced one foot before the other until he stood before the Abomination. Without a word to him she took a lighted torch from Jaranas' hand and lowered it to the surface of the channels which ran the length of the stone bridge on which they stood. Dark flames, the colour of blood leaped from the stinking surface of whatever liquid ran in their length, illuminating the twisting serpentine shapes carved and embossed in turns over the surface of the temple walls beyond the seemingly infinite drop to either side of the bridge.

"What do you see, little boy… what do you see, child-Horus, writhing in the blood of our people?"

"I see…" he started, meaning to tell her that he saw nothing – nothing but rotting temple walls and ill-made carvings, but even as he opened his mouth, his breath was stolen by the sharp pain that stabbed to the centre of his being, and he fell to his knees, words pouring from his lips.

"The mirror," he gasped, "figures, warriors… gods…"

_Light – dark-light from the mirror pulsed and swirled through the temple that rang with the chaotic sounds of battle all around him. Snake headed warriors rose like steam from the sand covered floor and suddenly he was rising – pulling away from the chaos around him – rising on wings that carried him aloft, and out through the distant sunlit square that offered freedom._

_The land around the temple was thick with them… black with the robes of the clashing Medjai – warrior against warrior – brother against brother – and a pall setting over the Great Desert as all hope was crushed in the battle…_

"Help them," he moaned, "help them to see…"

"See what, little Medjai," Anck-Su-Namun leaned closer, but he no longer pulled away. The vision had him now, he was lost to it. Feeling every thrust and cut of Medjai blade against Medjai flesh.

"…not the way… Uncle… Ume!"

_The world spun sickeningly beneath him… familiar ground gradually resolved itself in his vision. _

"_Call to Her," the voice was soft, inviting as the otherworldly hand brushed across the back of her neck, sweeping her hair to one side as his mother all but lay against her in the dark waters that surrounded her, inviting the whisper against her ear, "Summon Her to your heart…"_

_The water swirled, possessed her… possessed them both until the need for breath burned in his lungs. Bright spots danced, fireflies before his rising soul as the figure dragged her from the water… frantic… turning her to push hard against her tender flesh…turning her again to lean down and give her the life from his lungs…_

"_Breathe! Meirionnydd, BREATHE!"_

He cried out for her again in anguish, reaching for her, as though he could save her across time… trying so hard to anchor himself there and ignore the sucking, pulling sensation that nauseated more than the spinning of the scenes before his unseeing eyes.

"Ume…!" and as he lost his battle with the transient vision another cry tore from his lips, with no less anguish than the first, "Abi, Laa!"

_A gasp and the arms around him became tense for all of a heartbeat, before they relaxed, before they pulled him again toward her and she moaned as he claimed her, joining with her in unmatched fiery passion. He possessed every inch of her body until they were dizzy with it – drunk on shared touch, and on the force that moved them both… powerless against the pulse of his life inside them._

"Osiris and Nephthys…" he whispered, "…Anubis…"

"What is it that he sees?" Jaranas asked of Anck-Su-Namun, quietly as though he feared his voice might disturb the visions. As Suhayl heard them from far away, he wished they would… silently willed Jaranas to shout and take him from the cruelty of the betrayal and death he now saw…

_The dead of night… a horse's hooves wrapped against sound…a dark shroud around the barding and tack… a single shot ringing out, and the fall of a horse. A sharp pain and she gasped, winded in the fall._

"He lives in all times… between worlds…" Anck-Su-Namun's voice answered Jaranas, "Neither truly child, nor man. He can be everywhere, and every when… we must heed his words carefully."

_She gagged and tried to pull away, but the grip of the man's hand at the back of her neck tightened and forced her to drink down more of the liquid… she whimpered at his touch, thrown backward to the packed ground beneath the meagre rug… overhead the canvass flapped in a growing wind that matched the violence he visited on her, a blur of pain she could not fight…a scream falling like the tears from her eyes into the unhearing sands of the desert – invaded…_

"Ume!" he started to struggle… to try and come to his feet against the vision. He couldn't – wouldn't let it come to pass. "Ume, fight!"

_The long curved knife slashed downward in the man's hand… a blur of movement beside his father… The knife in the man's hand punched forward again, and up… a woman cried out… and fell… his father turned, catching her as she folded, almost like discarded linen… blood on his father's hands as he brought the woman gently to the ground… whispered words as her face finally swam into focus…_

"UME…!"

Anck-Su-Namun caught him as he fell forward, sobbing even while still caught in the vision, trying to say more, trying to speak through the desolation he felt… he pushed at her, trying to free himself as though it were _her_ touch which had caused this.

_He did not fly, but walked the hard packed land of rock and earth towards an archway he could see ahead. Above him the sky was a wash of dark clouds and boiling red in an endless sunset – like a sea of blood with putrid spray of grey._

_Matching his course, though keeping their distance, small, twisted figures crawled and skittered along, like scorpions on the baked earth. All around he could hear them… their hissing, cackling voices… spitting out their curses to fall like seeds onto the barren land and further off, yet all around him, the crying and screaming of those in need – weeping for mercy; for aid; for death_

_Time flowed backwards, a river flowing uphill… as though sharing her fate the sharpness of pain was all he knew… the cold of the steel that invaded his body, searching for his heart… he opened his eyes… gasped in disbelief as they met the soft, tear filled eyes of the man that held him… held the knife that pierced his flesh…and he lowered him gently to the ground._

"_IstamiH… ya ibni."_

**

Awareness returned as a cold hard pain that came with a cry of anguish out of the dark.

"_UME…!"_

"Suhayl…" she whispered, trying to sit up.

"No, no… Meiri, lie still… lie still…" a gentle touch glanced against her forehead as fingers ran through her hair. "It was just a fevered dream… you're safe."

"But… Suhay—"

"Ardeth will find him," Ashna told her softly. "You must rest. You all but drowned – Meiri, what were you thinking?"

"I have to help him, Ashna," she said, her voice a hoarse shadow of itself, "I am the _only_ one that can."

"Oh Meiri," Ashna answered, "I know that you believe that, I can tell, but… what can you do? What can any of us do? Until he finds the trail and discovers where they took Suha—"

"This is greater than only that. Our son is only the one that will draw the Medjai into this conflict that will destroy them, Ashna, and as his wife…"

"You think _I_ have not thought to act for the good of the Medjai." Ashna suddenly gripped her shoulder. "Never in living memory have our warriors been pitted against each other, and for what? The wicked ambitions of a bitter old man who twists other ambitions men against the right and just voice that guides the Tribes…"

"Ashna, be careful. Your uncle—"

"My uncle is a fool to follow Elder Mohammed and my father a bigger fool for allowing him to try and use me against the man they fought so _hard_ to force to accept me," she snorted, "And even _that_ was the Elders' doing – probably some twisted plan of Mohammed's against—"

"It is greater even than Mohammed's grudge against our family, Ashna." Meiri said softly, "Whoever is behind this has allied themselves with ancient _deadly_ powers of this land, and only the power of those Old Gods can counter them."

"But those powers are _gone _Meiri," Ashna shook her head, "you destroyed them yourself to prevent the very thing you say now happens. How can it be that one uses them now?"

Meiri sighed, and closed her eyes, lying back against the pillows, feigning defeat. There was no time to convince her sister-wife of the right of her words, or to argue her deception.

"You know I'm right, Meiri," Ashna told her, once again running her hand through her hair. "If we are to trust any power to combat the evil that _man, _not gods, has brought into our land, then we must trust in Allah."

"Yes," she whispered, "Of course you're right. I just—"

Ashna smiled softly. "I know," she said, "It is frustrating to sit and do nothing when there is such strife in our lands… but truly, for now at least, we can do nothing but trust Ardeth to know what he is doing."

"Yes," Meiri whispered again, then added, "I'm tired, Ashna… and so must you be. You don't need to watch over me, I'll be fine now… I'll just sleep… I'm so tired."

She closed her eyes, and slowed her breathing allowing herself to succumb just a little, for the tiredness was no lie. Half aware, she heard Ashna settle down nearby. _Mother, Isis, wake me when she sleeps_. She barely whispered the words to herself and felt the answering warmth that was the touch of her Lady flow through her heart. For a time, she allowed herself to rest.

**

The pain of the vision crippled him, beyond words now, he fell forward, barely able to support himself on his hands as the blood ran from his nose as it did with the worst of his visions… he trembled, close to collapse before Anck-Su-Namun came to his side.

"Enough," she whispered against his ear as she almost bodily lifted him into her arms, "It is done, little Medjai."

Her touch against his forehead was cool… soothing the fire that burned there, calming the frantic tattoo that beat at the side of his temple and silencing the crashing of the waves that sounded in his ear.

"Open your eyes and see, child-Horus, what you have given us with your lifeblood."

Nothing in him wanted to obey, and yet he was powerless, too weak to be defiant. He opened his eyes, and whimpered, drawing in on himself as he watched the otherworldly crimson light that began to radiate outward from where his blood had fallen to the cold stone of the bridge.

Like a pool of lighted oil running inexorably toward lower ground, the wave of energy stolen from him spread toward where the dark flames lapped at the walls. As the two collided the flames rose higher, spreading the crimson glow little by little over the serpentine carvings, receding to leave the snakes and curling hieroglyphs pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

"No," he moaned. "Please, I can't—"

"Ssssh," Anck-Su-Namun gently, almost with tenderness, ran her fingers through his hair. "It is done… find peace with it, little Medjai. Soon we will go inside and bring He that will open the doors to the culmination of a lifetime's waiting."

"No," he denied her again, "It will _never_ be. It will _never_ come to pass. I won't allow it. My _father_ won't allow it… and my mother—"

"Jaranas," Anck-Su-Namun purred, "See to it that your traitor takes care of the women."

"But he… I—" Jaranas stuttered, still gazing in amazement at the temple walls – alive now with power and menace.

"See to it, Jaranas," Anck-Su-Namun repeated softly, but with no less warning in her tone for all that it was spoken gently. "My lord Seth would be most displeased to learn it was due to your inability to control a mere woman that all his plans came to naught."

"I… I'll contact him at once." Jaranas squeaked, and with an almost panicked wave of his hand, sent his loyal henchman back up the steps to make the arrangements for the message to reach the Medjai elder's ears.

In Anck-Su-Namun's arms, Suhayl wept.

**

"Move along, Ma'am!" the soldier called as they paused in the roadway into the fort. The walls, though crumbling in places, were braced with carriages and other wooden struts that came from goodness only knew what else. Every few feet along the wall the rattle of equipment revealed the presence of another guard, rifles aimed out into the desert beyond, ready and willing to pick off anything that dared to trouble the sanctuary the fort provided for God fearing folk in a land full of heathen.

"Please officer," she heard her mother saying, "my daughter and I have come a long way – from Cairo and the troubles there. Where should we present ourselves? Where—?"

"Hostel at the rear of the fort, Ma'am. Think they still have space. You and your daughter should be right safe there."

"Thank you, sir."

She felt a tug on her arm and once more found herself dragged along, away from the freedom of the open desert, away from where she knew she needed to be… away from her father, away from…

"Star…" she whispered, then to her mother, pulling out of her grasp she protested, "We can't stay here, Mama… we'll be like prisoners."

"We'll be _safe_, Meren, and that's what your father wanted," her mother argued. "He'll come soon, and then we'll be together again, as a family."

"Mama!" she protested, "Look….! Look around you! How will he get in?"

"I don't know!" her mother snapped, the frustration and weariness both clear in her voice, "but Meren, we're safer here than _anywhere_ else."

The thought of being shut away from everything and everyone that gave her life meaning brought tears to Meren's eyes, and her lips began to tremble with the effort of holding the tears inside. How could her mother not understand? These people hated anything and everything to do with Egypt. They wouldn't let her father pass even if he _did _come to them. She glanced at the soldiers manning the walls. They would probably shoot him if he came close rather than wait to find out that he was a harmless Sufi Imam.

"Hold!" a voice from the wall rang out, and through the gate Meren watched as a family from the desert, a man and his wife who carried a young boy in her arms, approached the wall. "I said hold, or I'll fire!"

"Please," the man called back, holding out his arms to each side, "our home is attacked – we need shelter. My wife has a child…"

With a hand on his wife's shoulder, the man continued toward the gates, toward the relative safety the enclosure could offer.

The metallic rasp and click as the soldier cocked his rifle went through Meren like a tornado of horror – confirmation of what awaited her father should he come to them – and she felt dizzy and sick. Without thinking she threw herself at the ladder to the upper walkway, and scrambled up; grasped the barrel of the rifle and pulled hard; cried out at the acid pain searing her palm, and again as the soldier tossed her away to land hard at the base of the ramparts.

"No, no, no! She's just a child. She doesn't know any better!"

When her vision cleared, Meren let out a single sob of shock to find her mother thrown across her… trying to shield her. She looked up into the triangular butt of the rifle mere inches from her face.

"Damn it, woman!" the soldier roared at her mother, "Keep your bloody brat under control. Could have blown her stupid little head off!"

She felt her mother stiffen both at his tone, and at his words. "As you meant to that poor man and his family!?"

"Now then, Ma'am," the soldier's superior officer nodded the soldier away from his post, "you don't understand the way of these things."

"I understand that that man out there came here asking for sanctuary as we did." Her mother eased up from Meren now that there was no danger to her, and as the argument flared between her mother and the officer, she turned to peek over the rampart to the family she had tried to save. "He doesn't deserve a bullet in the head. Whatever happened to Christian charity?"

As Meren peered down to the sand below, the man with the family looked up and met her eyes. After a moment he closed his eyes, and bowed his head slightly, pressing a hand over his heart, to his lips and then to his forehead in a blessing of acknowledgement, before he turned and retreated with his wife and child. Meren breathed out hard with relief, and then turned again to slide down to sit against the wall.

"Charity's all well and good Ma'am," the officer said, "but you can never be too sure of those bloody natives. Can't be sure they didn't start all the troubles in the first place. Besides, if we let 'em all in, we'd soon be overrun we—"

Dismayed at what she heard, Meren wanted nothing more than to be away from the man, away from here… far away. She pushed against the wall to try and get to her feet and screamed aloud, cutting off the officer, and drawing a few looks from more than one of the other soldiers lining the walls, as the pressure against the burn on her palm sent waves of pain bursting over her.

"Better get her to the infirmary, Ma'am," the officer said, with somewhat more sympathy in his voice than before. "She'll have taken quite the burn from the rifle barrel. Best get it seen too before it goes bad."

"Be sure that I'll be making a formal complaint to the ranking officer," her mother said even as she leaned down to wrap Meren in her arms to lift her away from the man. Meren clung to her, retreating to a little girl again, hurt and wanting the care of her mother alone.

"Complain if you want, Ma'am," the officer answered, "won't change the truth of the troubles."

**

The dust and trails of swirling sand within the temple itself were stirred by the light breezes that seemed to come from the awakening energies of the temple. The pulsing crimson light spread slowly over each and every wall, unstoppable. Suhayl felt sick and weak against it all.

_What have I done?_

The question burned in his soul to match the dark fire that burned in each of the temple sconces, and lit the channels that flanked each side of the steps to the dais with its blood red glow.

As they brought him into the main room of the temple from where they had been keeping him in a tiny subterranean cell, Anck-Su-Namun descended the steps to meet with him on a central platform, surrounded on all sides by a pit the bottom of which he could not see. From this pit came the moans of all the lost and tortured souls imaginable and the chill of a death beyond physical death began to creep over him from the touch of their wailing breath.

"So, my little Medjai… child-Horus, one last deed you'll do for me."

"I'll do _nothing_ more for you, Abomination!" he spat back.

Even as he did, the ever present Salak – instrument of his torture – grasped him by the back of his robe and dragged him around to face the direction in which Anck-Su-Namun was looking.

He was there… and Suhayl cried out at the withered, decaying visage of He-that-must-not-be-named.

"No!" he struggled with Salak. "You cannot ask it of me… to break all of the vows that I will ever make…"

"Ah, but my young love," Salak purred against his ear, "you will not live so long to make your vows."

Bile filled Suhayl's mouth at the tone in Salak's voice, and at the brief, but searing touch he gave him… Forced to swallow it down, or disgrace himself still more, Suhayl growled at the man, "I'll _kill_ you!"

Anck-Su-Namun chuckled. "I believe he would as well, Salak." Then to Suhayl she added, "But you _will_ give me the means to bring him back to me. Here and now – or I will gladly watch as Salak takes you for his own… and takes your life with it."

"_Cursed be those who know such sorrows as I have seen and still act in evil!_"

He felt the words of his mother's curse lingering in the air of the temple, piercing him mind and body and soul. How could he do as they asked? And yet… how could he not? If there were even the slimmest chance that he might, by staying alive, bring right all of the pain and suffering that was happening in the name of all of this, how could he throw away his life?

"Forgive me, Isis… mother," he whispered, as he pulled himself from Salak's hands and walked with as much dignity as his small frame would allow, toward the putrid remains of the former High Priest of his divine father – fallen so far from grace in the name of love unrequited… He sighed, and stretched out a hand in Imhotep's direction.

"Arise… Imhotep… har ya, har ya, har ya…" he whispered the words, softly at first, but with growing conviction. He knew he need shed no more blood, and yet, felt his purpose would be better served if he maintained that blood-bond with him as he did with Anck-Su-Namun.

With a speed that belied the exhaustion he felt he snatched the blade from Salak's belt, drew it quickly across his palm… dropping the knife in the sudden pain… and squeezing his hand shut tightly, extended it over the rotten husk of the undead high priest.

"Har ya…" he commanded. The dark red light of the temple dimmed as he called upon the awakened power of the place. "Come to me, Imhotep… in the name of love… in the name of life… in the name of—"

"Har ya, Suti!" Jaranas and Anck-Su-Namun's cries drowned out his quiet pleas of summoning… and he realised with a stone in place of his heart that he had played right into their hands.

He shrank away as the shell that was Imhotep began to stir, letting out a primal roar… and rose, unearthly to its feet.

"_Who calls to me?_" demanded the resonant voice of the ancient God of Chaos.

Anck-Su-Namun stalked forward, pushing Suhayl away, to fall, desolate to the stone floor.

"_I call to you, beloved, my husband_," she answered, herself overshadowed by the power of the goddess Nephthys.

_Please let there be some hope in all of this._ Suhayl squeezed his eyes closed as he hoped against hope that there might yet be some way to salvage what he had done, and when he opened them, for a moment it seemed as though his silent prayer had been answered.

"_I know you…" _Seth-Imhotep whispered, as Anck-Su-Namun came to a stop in front of him. "Anck-Su-Namun…"

He raised a withered hand, and tenderly caressed the air beside her face, a gesture that felt so familiar to Suhayl he knew that they had done this many times before. In his heart he felt a pang of sorrow for them both. A couple in love, separated by circumstance. What had been his crime, this priest, this man…? To love who he could not have?

"Imhotep," breathed Anck-Su-Namun, echoing the gesture beside the face of her beloved.

"Yes," Suhayl whispered, "See the love… deny the power of anything else. Be who you shou—"

"_Silence!_" Anck-Su-Namun's voice split the air beside him like a whip, and he fell back to the stone once more, a sob escaping him at his failure. "_Take the boy! Do with him as you will!"_

Salak needed no second bidding. Even as Suhayl tried to scramble away he grasped him, and pulled him close, to hold him vice like through his struggles as he started to drag him away.

"_Nephthys…_" Seth-Imhotep purred.

"_Seth…"_ she answered him, stepping forward into his darkly passionate embrace, heedless of all around them, who hurriedly turned away as they sought to reconcecrate the temple with the power of their shared ecstasy.

Suhayl yelped as Jaranas' hand shot forward to bar Salak's passage from the temple. Salak halted, but did not let him go, instead pressed his nose close beside his shoulder and inhaled deeply… Suhayl shuddered and redoubled his efforts for freedom.

"We still have not heard from your tame Medjai elder," Jaranas said quietly against the other sounds coming from the temple.

"So?" Salak asked, an eyebrow cocked as he raised his face away from Suhayl.

"We must be sure that he has secured the women against their interference. If they escape and come here…"

"But the boy," Salak protested with a frown, "has been given to me."

"I heard," Jaranas assured him, "and he will still be here on your return. Was it not you that said 'anticipation makes the moment of fulfilment all the sweeter' hmm?"

Salak growled, but relinquished him into Jaranas' outstretched arms. Suhayl covered his face with his hands, and wept with a mixture of fear and relief as Salak turned his back and swept from the temple.

**

Meren winced as her mother gently bathed her burned hand, and applied an ointment they had been given by the infirmary.

"What were you thinking?" her mother asked her, though this time without the anger that had suffused her many questions on the way to the infirmary.

_What _was_ I thinking?_ Meren asked herself the same question, and had done almost since she had hurried to save the family from the soldier's bullets.

"He needed help," she answered her mother, saying aloud the thoughts that were coming into her mind as she tried to make sense of her own actions. "That soldier was going to shoot him and all because he needed help. What if it had been us? What if it had been Papa?"

"Yes, well we're going to have to find another way to get your father accepted into the fort, because I don't think even an Imam is going to be able to just walk up to _these_ gates," her mother said, echoing the fear that still beat a pattern against her heart.

"It's wrong, Mama," Meren said and tugged on her hand a little as the ointment began to sting. "It's all as wrong as the bad stuff we saw as we came here."

"We just don't understand, is all," her mother tried to tell her, but sounded unconvinced herself. "We don't know the kinds of things the soldiers here have had to guard against."

"Yes we do," Meren said flatly. "It's the same everywhere. When people do bad things the creatures come."

"Is _that_ why you tried to stop the soldier?" her mother paused in binding her hand to give her a strange, soft look. It made Meren feel uncomfortable. She shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe," she said, but even as she spoke the words she knew they were a lie. It wasn't for fear of the supernatural reprisal at the soldier doing wrong, but at the fact of the wrongness itself. She couldn't let the lie stand, and so added a moment later, "Maybe I just didn't think the man deserved to die just because he tried to bring his family to safety."

Her mother resumed binding her hand then. "I don't want you to do anything else that's as impulsive or foolish as what you did earlier," she said without looking at anything other than her hand.

"Mama, I can't stay here," Meren told her, "not when I know he needs me."

"Don't be ridiculous!" she snapped. "Even if you knew where he is, which I'm sure you don't…" her tone almost dared Meren to contradict her, "you'd never be able to get out of the fort without getting caught and then we'll be in even more trouble than we already are. Meren _listen_ to me…"

Even as she spoke, Meren pulled herself away, and finished tying the bandage around her own hand.

"You don't understand," she accused. "You've _never_ understood. You think I don't hear the cross words you share with Papa? You think I _want_ this… these vision and feelings and everything else? They came from you… you and Papa, so don't punish me for who I am!"

Feeling hurt, and bereft of comfort she started toward the door of the room they'd been given. She just wanted to run herself into exhaustion, or break down and cry, and for a reason she could not explain, she did not want her mother to see that.

"Meren, wait!" Derro called after her, and desperate for anything other than the desolation she felt, she paused; the door half open and held in her hand. "I will admit, I do not understand, and because of that I am afraid for you. You're my little girl, Meren, and I love you for that. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

She turned to face her mother, "Then _trust_ me to know that what I must do is the _right_ thing to do, Mama. Help me."

In that moment she was a little girl crying out for her mother's love and silently she begged that for once her mother's stoicism and undemonstrative nature would crack and she would come across the room to wrap her in her arms and hold her tightly. She often longed for it, but never had she seen her mother's reserve falter and this was no exception. Her mother nodded and merely held out a hand.

With a sigh, and tears in her eyes, Meren closed the door and returned to her mother's side.

"He's out there, Mama," she said softly, "I can feel him… and he's hurt and afraid… so terribly afraid."

"But what can we do?" Her mother asked.

"I don't know," she answered, "I don't know, but I know we have to try. _I_ have to try."

_Ahteenyamhai…_

"Najm al-SabaH," she whispered. "I'll find you, I promise, only… hold on."

**

"Mohammed, this is ridiculous," Sulayman snapped as he strode into the council hall. "They are but a handful of warriors compared to the numbers we have. Why have you not ordered our warriors in to capture the oath breakers and—"

"Peace, brother Sulayman," Mohammed turned to him with an over-patient smile. "You are not of First Tribe, so could not know, but the place they have chosen to defend as their base is both their salvation and their doom. If we were to try and storm their base, they would pick us off one at a time as we came through the narrow entrance, but by the same token, theirs is the only way into or out of those caverns and sooner or later they are going to need supplies."

"So you mean for it to be a siege then?

"I suppose you could say so, yes." Mohammed nodded and moved across the hall to pick up one of the many reports that he had begun, as the new First Medjai, to receive.

"And what of my niece?" Sulayman demanded. "She's in there with those traitors. How will you be sure to safeguard _her_ in all of this?"

"That, my friend, is very much _your_ concern, not mine." Mohammed said, somewhat coldly. "My obligations are to _all_ of the Twelve Tribes, and not just one woman among many."

"One woman whose future you decided many years ago, whom _you_ played a part in dishonouring!" Sulayman growled.

"Dishonour?" Mohammed raised an eyebrow, "Hardly."

"You _knew_ of Rashid, and still you allowed his signing of the marriage scroll. You allowed an unlawful relationship to progress between Ashna and Ardeth, and—"

"Sulayman, I know the accusations you level against me because I have heard little else from those commanders still loyal to the Bays… that I allowed it to ensure that there would be no legitimate heir, so that it would be that much easier to unseat the Bays when I felt the time was right."

"Well didn't you?"

"Far from it, Honoured Second," Mohammed purred the honorific in an effort to calm Sulayman, beginning to become irritated in the extreme. "Were that my plan I would simply have ensured that the marriage between Ardeth and Ashna never take place at all. It would have been far easier, since few Commanders accept the Usertim bitch as his legitimate wife."

Mohammed watched the sigh rise and fall in Sulayman's chest, knowing that his words, however apocryphal, made some kind of sense to the man.

"So what is your plan?" Sulayman asked at last. "How long will this siege take?"

Mohammed began to answer, but was interrupted by the arrival of one of the warriors from the bluffs.

"Forgive me, First Medjai," the man said, "But there is a messenger. He says it is urgent."

Mohammed nodded, "Show him in."

The Medjai warrior returned to the door and gestured harshly, two other warriors entered, half carrying between them the scrap of a Tuareg horseman. Beneath his dusty robe he wore a deep blue tunic embroidered with black and gold thread.

Seeing this, Mohammed instructed, "Leave us."

"But First Medjai—"

"I said leave us," he repeated, raising his voice a little. "You too, Sulayman. This man is known to me. I will be quite safe."

"Yes, First Medjai," the warriors bowed in unison, and dropping the unfortunate messenger to the ground, they left almost as one. Sulayman was slower to leave.

Not until he was certain of their privacy did Mohammed move to give the obviously exhausted messenger the courtesy of a cup of water, and gesture to him to rise and be comfortable.

"You risk much coming to me here," he grumbled as the man drank noisily from the cup he thrust into his hand.

"It was…" the man gasped between swallows of water, "…unavoidable. The message is urgent. She said… she said to bring it to you without delay."

"Speak it," he demanded, knowing that the message was written only in the sense that it was etched into the memory of the messenger.

"You are to ensure that the women of the Bay family are contained. They must play no part in this affair," the man began to recite the message. "You must use any and all means to guarantee this, and it would be better were they not to survive the encounter."

Mohammed frowned. "Did she make it clear which of the women is of most concern to her?"

"She did not."

"And you're certain that she wanted their demise?"

"She said that it would be better were they not to survive the encounter," the man repeated with the patient recitation of a messenger.

"That could prove… difficult," Mohammed answered with some hesitation. "The niece of my lieutenant is one of them."

"That is _your_ problem, not ours," the messenger said, almost directly echoing his own words to Sulayman only moments before. "You have your instructions, if you are incapable of carrying them out, I am certain that one will come after me who is more than adept at ensuring no loose ends are left to tangle the threads of our endeavour."

_Assassin,_ Mohammed thought with a shudder, picturing Salak's cold dark eyes boring into him.

"Tell her it will be done," he said with a sigh. After all, it would not be the first time that he had been responsible for the death of one of the women of that family, or indeed the first time he had made an attempt on Ardeth's women. The problem would be convincing Sulayman that it was a regrettable accident.

The messenger nodded and then as was tradition asked, "A safe haven to rest?"

"Follow me," Mohammed led him into the room at the back of the council hall. "None will disturb you here."

"I will be gone come morning." The messenger gave him a bow and then settled himself to rest.

After just a moment in which he gathered himself for the lies he must tell, Mohammed returned to the doorway and called out to Sulayman.

"Summon the captains," he said urgently, "There is new information, and we can no longer wait for the siege to break."

"But you said—"

"I know what I said, Sulayman, but we have no choice. No matter the cost, we must make the assay against them."

"When?" the Commander of Twelfth Tribe asked.

"Tomorrow… an hour or so after dawn…" Mohammed considered this and nodded to himself, "The rising sun will provide us with some cover at least, as they will be somewhat sun-blinded."

Sulayman nodded, and with a bow to his First Medjai, went to assemble the captains.

**

_The man flew from behind the pillar, the long curved knife slashed downward in his hand toward his exposed back… she moved…no thought, only instinct. The knife in the man's hand punched forward again, and up… she cried out… and fell and he turned to catch her as she folded, almost like discarded linen… blood on his hands as he brought her gently to the ground… _

_Daughter…it is time…_

The voice startled her awake, and she stifled the gasp that rose into her throat. Glancing around she saw that Ashna was indeed sleeping – albeit fitfully.

"Oh my sweet sister-wife," she whispered, and moved quietly across the cavern to settle the blanket more completely around the woman who had been a companion and a peace to her these last few years, "if only you knew…"

She leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Ashna's cheek. "I give you peace, my sister. Take care of him for me." Then she silently dressed in her darkest clothes, and stole from the cavern.

"Isis, divine mother, shield me from sight with your loving wings that I may do your bidding in this darkest time," she breathed over and over as she moved, creeping along walls and crossing corridors through the most shadowed parts until she could see the lighter, star sprinkled sky outside.

She would need to take one of the horses and knew this would be a challenge to be faced. If Nazir were there with them, it would be one she would fail, and so she prayed that he would be resting. Even then there was no guarantee. She knew he often slept with the horses… and found herself wishing that Dechara still lived. Her brother needed her and although there was no way she should have known, she was sure that he had not been the same since her death.

Her luck held… the warrior guarding the horses was not Nazir, and with the power of Isis on her side she was able to steal past the man, and quietly lead one of the horses away from the others across the soft sand of the oasis side, and out of sight into the warren of pathways that led through the hills and caverns to the secret entrance known to so few.

The 'Keyhole' would have been a faster route, but she knew without a doubt it would be guarded by Mohammed's men, hoping to keep them under siege until they had no choice but to surrender to his rule. When that happened she could not be in Al-Kharga, and so she took the dangerous pathways of the Warren to take her out of the settlement. Carefully, diligently, she wrapped the horse's hooves against the sound of metal on rock that would have given her away and led him slowly and carefully through the winding, rocky tracks.

Only when she was safely through, and the open desert stretched ahead of her did she mount the horse, and, looking back only once to the great rock edifice that hid the home of the Medjai from casual sight, set off into the nightmare that was to come.


End file.
